I have a very real problem.
Okay, I have multiple problems. But let’s take it one blog post at a time, ‘kay?
Today’s problem du jour is my recent addiction to boots.
Seriously, it’s getting out of hand. See?
Not as bad as my book obsession, but that’s been a lifetime thing that I’ve learned to live with. The boots thing? The boots thing is new(ish).
See, at first, it was just a few. I had my snowballs (unpictured) and the pair of little black ankle boots…
…and for a while, that was enough. I wore those snow boots to death. Seriously. I also once upon a time had a pair of black suede cowgirl boots with a butterfly on them, but I recently threw then out after approximately 8 years (they were not high quality). I’ve never been one of those girls who has to have five billion pairs of shoes.
Flip flops? Yes. In every color. I live in Texas and they’re like, $2. So yeah. Bring on the bins full. But heels? Wedges? Pumps? Nope. Not my speed. And, admittedly, I didn’t see the particular allure of boots, either. Say what you will.
I mean, I had a professor/editor at Mizzou that my classmates nicknamed “Boots” because she ALWAYS wore boots, and she’s super-smart and good at life, so I figured there had to be something to it, but I didn’t quite get it. Kind of like how I never got the allure of Freddie Prinze Jr. back in the day.
Still don’t, btw.
Anyhow, my boot obsession began so slowly, I barely even noticed. First, I picked up some terribly functional yet fun rainboots. Rainboots, not galoshes. That’s a stupid word.
Then, I found some ADORABLE over-the-knee, 1-inch heel, sexy as heel boots at a resale shop I frequented a few years ago, and it planted the seed of my obsession. I felt completely indestructible in those boots.
I mean, really, amazing. Nancy Sinatra amazing.
And perhaps I would have just assumed that it was the one pair…except soon I needed brown boots for Thanksgiving in NYC (it’s cold there), and so I purchased some brown slouchy boots.
And all was well with the world. I mean, I have a pair of brown and multiple pairs of black, so that’s more than enough, right?
Nope. I found that I needed some tall grey boots, for wearing navy.
And, sadly, my black over-the-knee boots perished by way of just getting old and being low-quality to begin with, paired with my trademark clumsiness, so I needed to replace them…
Then I discovered that honestly, my brown boots were too casual, so I needed ones with heels.
Plus, a girl can’t just wear tall boots all the time, soooooooo…
And let’s not even get started on my two pairs of cowgirl boots…the red ones that are taller than any I’ve seen IRL before, and more adorable than any adult ones I’ve laid hands on…
…and my new (to me) purple ones.
I can’t stop. Those purple ones I’ve had for literally only a week. It’s like the boots find me. They’re drawn to me in the same way that cats and/or men are drawn to other women. I get boots, books, and dogs.
The sad part? I have three more pairs I didn’t put in the photos OR talk about. It’s like I want to come clean, but I can’t. Insanity. Ah well, I suppose it’s like they say: admitting you have a problem is the first step.
But is it a problem? Really? Or is it just awesome that I have this many amazing pairs of boots?
You’re right, Nancy. I mean, it’s not like I have every color of the rainbow…..yet….
