Boots

Yesterday, on my way into work, I started feeling unsure on my feet. Turns out the heal on my right boot was loose – about to break off. Now thinking about it on my way into work this morning, the irony did not escape my notice. Irony, what irony? Let me take you back, way back to my senior year in high school.

I was in the advanced science and math tracks which meant that I was taking calculus senior year (lots of work) on one hand and on the other, I was in science research class (very free form). We were about a dozen students and the way the scheduling worked out, we didn’t have a lunch period, so the class was our lunch too. There’s a classic story of mine here about mountain dew and revenge on the boys who would graze on our food, but that’s for another day (and not to be put in writing).

Instead, what I distinctly recall from those days, was mimicking the saunters. Our classroom was on a side hallway and a few of us girls were giving a go at doing the exaggerated limp saunter that was just emerging back then. You know, where the guys are slouched while standing which is a feat in itself. Add on top of that the shuffle: left foot forward normal like, and then the right leg brought forth without barely any bending at the knee. Throw in there a little bop. It’s complicated. And we were taking our turns down the hallway giving it a go. Did I mention the class was “free form”? If I remember correctly, my poor attempt of ridiculing the walk of our peers was poor in deed. I believe Ali had the best rendition.

Now last night, I was about to leave when a call came in from a coworker who is… let’s put it as not brief. Two hours later I was finally walking out of the office and making my way to DSW downtown. My walking by now had adapted to the condition of the boot. It was about to collapse on me, so instead of walking heal to toe I was walking on my toes and the right leg was starting to take on the limp drag from those earlier days. Making fun of the boys way back then was coming back to haunt me as I morphed into a version of them briefly for the night. So that’s the irony for me.

I tried on boots, tons of boots and was reminded that my little chicken legs are just not well equipped to take on the calf height boots. Sigh. I have two great winter dresses that are screaming for a nice brown pair of below the knee boots. I did pick up a pair of short boots to replace the broken pair. I was torn as they were almost exactly the same ones – same brand, but they were on clearance. We’ll see if this pair lasts longer than one season. I finally found some nude pumps (yay!). Ok, they’re a little more khaki than nude, but still do the job of elongating the leg. I picked up a pair of embellished sandals that I was looking for all summer after I came back from Paris. And the fourth pair I almost didn’t get.

I was trying on shoes and had a pile on the floor near the mirror. While I was checking out some other shoes, I come back to find a lady trying on a pair of ballet flats from my pile. I was about to say something but realized there were piles of unclaimed shoes everywhere and I wasn’t really sure if I wanted them. I wanted to mull it over some more so I bit my tongue for the moment (I knew where the box was after all). Which was smart as I was able to see what the shoes looked like, 1) from a different perspective not attainable when trying them on yourself, and 2) with ankle length pants (I had longer pants for heels on). I kept my eye on her and at one point was tempted, while her back was turned, to grab all my stuff, run up and grab the shoes from her new pile of shoes she was trying and run over to the cash register before she noticed what hit her. In the end I got distracted by this marvelous pair of Italian designer shoes and she left the ballet flats so all was right. And after a little adjustment, I was able to walk home with my regular gait and my new boots on.