I’m not quite sure what it was that possessed me to get up yesterday morning and put on those boots. It must have been because it was 5:50 in the morning and I have been sleeping like a crackhead lately (I mean…I guess? Do crackheads sleep erratically? That’s what I’m trying to say I’ve been doing…I AM AN AWESOME EXPLAINER). My first mistake was probably getting dressed, because for some reason I decided that wearing brown pants and a brown shirt that were the EXACT same color that also happens to be the EXACT same color as my hair, which I wore down, and which is unbelievably long and sprawling at the moment, would be a good idea. I was almost completely monochromatic, and the color that I was proudly wearing was “poop.” HOTTT.
So anyway, in my stupor I say: “ZOMG! I have cute, pointy boots that are also this lovely poop color! Let me put them on!”
(but, for real, these boots really are cute. And, for the record, I really LOVE this color brown, but not when I am Lit-trally wearing it from head to toe)
The key issue about this isn’t the color (which makes it questionable that I am writing about the color so much, right? Once again: AWESOME AT THE DESCRIBING OF THINGS.) (Jesus. Christ. Enough with the goddamn parenthesis! Why do I keep using these?), it’s that they have the little pointy heels on them too. I do wear heels at work almost every day, but in my other life, heels are a rarity for me. I love the way they look and sometimes pretty shoes in a store window will stop me in my tracks, but I just don’t wear them. Before I moved here I wore flip flops every day, even in the winter, but now that I’ve decided I don’t want my toes to turn black and fall off, I’ve taken to wearing Merrils or boat shoes almost everyday. Heeled? Nope. Cute? Absolutely not. Comfy? You bet your ass they are! My heels that I wear at work actually live under my desk at night, and I just change when I get here, so I never actually have to, you know, walk in them at all. But I do walk quite a bit every day to and from the subway stations or from the train station if my train gets in a little early.
I happen to work in a part of Boston that is rather “historic” which is a euphemism (is that right? “A euphemism?” Shouldn’t it be “An euphemism?” That can’t be right though…) for “seriously wrecked sidewalks.” There are bricks missing and unevenness and slick spots and all sorts of precariousness, which makes for awesome walking conditions. Especially walking in clicky boots with high, skinny heels. I, miraculously, did not actually face-plant into the sidewalk, but I was close. And of course my feet are SCREAMING at me today for it. Like, owy-owy-ouch, my feet motherfucking hurt like you wouldn’t believe.
Now I remember why I’ve owned these boots for 6 years and have only worn them 5 or 6 times. And why I generally don’t walk across Boston in shoes like this. The warm weather is addling my mind and forcing me to make questionable fashion decisions! My number one thing I am looking forward to about summer: breaking out the flip flops again. It can’t wait.