This morning, I got up and around early. The list of errands and tasks was long and the days seem to get shorter, not longer. So I was getting dressed and picking out what I'd wear. Shoes are an issue for me sometimes. I have the issue with the plantar fasciitis still, something that has some support and yet cute and comfortable - not as easy as you might think.
Add to that snow on the ground and the promise of it being kinda slick.
I remembered my boots.
A few years ago, I bought a pair of "combat" boots on a whim. The boys and I were in going to the grand canyon, and I had not really thought ahead about my footwear. See, I have a fear of heights, and really, the grand canyon kills a couple ppl every year. I kinda wanted to reduce that risk and flip flops or platform heels really didn't seem to be the way to go. I dunno, I'm just sayin'.
So I made a stop at Walmart and for some reason I decided that these boots were keep me at the top of the crevasse, and not at the bottom. In theory anyway
I fell in love with them and wore them on a regular basis. I've always felt strong wearing them for some reason. I call them my ass kicking boots - although I've kicked very little ass with them.
I wore them a lot at the beginning. It seemed like when I was down or feeling kinda weak, I could wear them and they made me a little taller, a little more grounded, a lot more *stronger*. I would wear them and think "bring it". I loved that they made me different from your average "girl". I admit I like to "stand out" sometimes in my clothing choices, which usually are my shoes. So that's why this bum foot really has be down.
They are now showing their age, I haven't really worn them since last winter, but something about them tells me that I can't get rid of them. They are special to me because they remind me to be strong, and they help me remember when I wasn't.
So when I suggested to Gene that instead of pretty bedazzled stilettos, I wear my combat boots, it seemed like a logical thing. Him? Notsomuch. Needless to say, I wore neither the stilettos nor the boots. That pesky foot had it's way again. But I did plan on bringing the boots, and having Jaime take my pics with my boots on, and I had one pic in particular I wanted. I got there that day and I'd forgotten my boots. I'll get that pic, if it means I have to drag the dress out, fix up my hair, and drive all the way to Iowa in the spring. Heck maybe I'll be 25 pounds lighter too. bonus!
As the happiness set over me that I had a good excuse to wear my boots today, I started thinking about the power of shoes. Yes - shoes have power. I know that seems strange, but think about how a simple pair of pumps with a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, has a completely different feel than a pair of tennis shoes with the same outfit. You see, the simple little shoe, has the complete power of how you feel, how you carry yourself, where your confidence lies in how you're presenting yourself. That simple shoe sets your stage for your day.
A pair of shoes can be full of memories - whether they be happy or sad. They can remind you of where you've been with a simple shoe print in the sand - or in the snow. They can make you feel grounded and strong and supported.
That's a load to carry for a pair of regular old shoes, and the secret is, that it's not the shoes, it's how those shoes make you feel, because the real power is in just little old you. The shoes are just a reminder of where that power was all along.
Expect nothing from me all day Thursday. I will be gone all day. There's a surprise in store for Gene, but because I don't want some asshat to ruin it, I won't tell what it is until Friday :)