I’ve had a love affair with boots since I was small. It all started when I was eight or nine and Mom had my three sisters and I in Payless to pick out our winter shoes for the school year. Even then I found it hard to buy something that didn’t inspire me in some way, shape or form, so I was fairly unimpressed and not excited to buy a new pair of shoes until….
They were tall, black, and shiny. And I wanted them more than life itself. They had a gaudy silver buckle on the sides and a big silver scrolly-thing on the pointy cowboy boot toe. I tried them on and loved how they clanked a little with each step I took, my imagination told me I had spurs on.
They were perfect.
I begged and pleaded almost more obnoxiously than my conscience would allow and finally my very practical mother said yes, I could buy them, undoubtedly against her better judgement. It was a day I’ll never forget. I wore those boots until they fell apart (which didn’t take too long). Then I kept wearing until some point at which my mother probably held me down and wrestled them off my feet, which wasn’t too hard because they were probably too tattered to hold on very well anyway.
Fast forward almost 20 years to a few weeks ago.
I found these:
They’re distressed and beautiful, and I HAD to have them. So I began leaving the computer open to the Sheplers.com page in places where I knew Doc would see it, bathroom not exempt. I pushed the bounds of my own conscience in my attempts to not-so-subtley hint, and…. he caved, dear soul that he is. He was on call on Mother’s Day after all, I think he felt bad for me. And I’m okay with him feeling bad for me once in a while, especially if it scores me something like those boots.
Once they come in the mail I’ll put up a non-microscopic picture up for you to see. Not that you love them as I do just yet, but trust me, you will.
Obviously, I’m a little obsessed. Sorry.
Last fall when I saw these at a yard sale…
… I bought them without second thought. And they fit my baby perfectly, flashy pink leather and all.
I found these shortly thereafter at a consignment store and bought them without blinking an eye…
…. and they fit my oldest munchkin perfectly. She wore them everywhere until it got too hot to wear them everywear.
Unfortunately for me, their little feet are not-so-little anymore and they’re growing faster than these sweet boots can keep up with. Practical creature that I sometimes can be, my inner voice tells me to give them away, consign them, etc., but I just can’t pass them along (the boots that is).
I don’t care if they’re disintegrated beyond recognition after months and months of stinky preschooler feet taking them places they were never meant to be taken.
I’m keeping them forever.
And I’ll probably keep my boots forever because I know I’ll cherish and adore them when they come in the mail. I’ll wear them everywhere, even to bed. Doc may complain, but he’ll get over it.
I don’t think Mom has any idea what she started that fateful day in Payless twenty years ago.