People who know me in the 3D sense will know that I bought my first pair of boots about five years ago now (and left them – frozen, defrosted, frozen again, and holed in numerous places – in China this January). Way back when I bought them, I’d been thinking about buying new boots for some weeks, and had decided on a light brown pair from a particular shop, that I knew cost my maximum of $100 (I was rather poorer then, and had never spent such a lofty sum on a single item of clothing before). There were only two tiny problems: 1. I had selected them based on the belief they were lined with warm fur (they weren’t). 2. The only pair left in the shop was two sizes too small for me.
I bought them anyway. At first I could only walk a few steps before the pain made me hobble. But in a mere two years they were no less comfortable than all my other shoes. By the four year mark, they were my most comfortable shoes. (Again, I sense some elusive life lesson here.)
As those boots grew increasingly obvious aeration holes, I knew the time had come to buy a new pair of boots to see me through Winter 2010 (here in the Southern hemisphere, I have less than a month remaining until Winter hits, and nothing but plastic sandals to wear to work). And then it happened: Rivers had a sale on women’s boots.
I hastened to the store with heart in throat and $28 in wallet (it was a rather impressive sale, to be sure). The saleswoman mercifully left me alone to sweat and strain my way into the various boot styles like a stingy wannabe Cinderella. To my great and lasting astonishment, I found a pair in the correct size.
Well, sort of.
The feet are certainly the correct size. The legs. . . well. . .
I’d hate to be indelicate, so let’s just say that I have more legs than, strictly speaking, is required. Not so much more in quantity, but in sheer chocolate-inspired quality. Or, to put it another way, my leg budget for this year is far greater than expected. Or should I say my legs are providing a valuable anti-starvation backup nutrient supply?
Anyway. . .
It is quite difficult to do up the zips on these boots (which, mercifully, go from my ankles up to as close as possible to my knees). So difficult, in fact, that after owning these boots for two days my left index finger (at the first join, where the zipper is dragged from) is red and sore, and my right index finger has a visible blister.
Here’s a picture of the marks on my legs after wearing the boots a few hours (note the puckering on the inside of my legs, where the zipper goes; the mark on my left leg, however, is from shark bite in the Canberra Centre fountain):
Never fear – it always takes a year or two for these things to get into their stride.
Play along at home: Buy boots (long ones if you’re a girl). They’re worth it. If you’re a beginner at the boot game, it’s probably best to be a little fussier on how well they fit.
Coming soon: Secret # 6, suggested privately by Ben, who told me this blog isn’t weird enough. “What the people want is weirdness,” he said. “Something really out there. Ooh, I have an idea. . .”
I will do my best to do it sometime this week.