Oh NOT those kind of girl troubles, I’ve already dished about ill timed hot flashes…this is more girl troubles of the footwear kind. And it’s really two problems. My legs. I’ve got nice legs, well toned, muscled, and shapely. But they are skinnier than the average leg and they also sit on top of large feet. Do you know what this means? Does anyone know the cross I must bear for having long skinny legs? Yes!! I do know the Syrian government is using chemical agents against their own citizens; yes parts of my state were under water while Yosemite burns. But I am powerless against these things. As powerless as I am against the people who decide just how wide the shaft of a boot should be for a woman with a size 11 foot. Apparently I’m supposed to have tree trunks for legs since I have skis for feet.
Last year, while we are busy deciding if air strikes are appropriate against Syria I had purchased and returned three pairs of boots. All purchased with a gleaming-eyed hope the tops of them would not flap around just under my knees and give me the appearance of a nine year old in her mom’s boots. Hope and good intentions are the path paved to Hell or something like that. The weekend of the boots, Obama was still unsure about air strikes and I remained bootless. So I did the unthinkable. I went shopping in Meat Space with real people and in real time. Yeah. I know. Go lay down for a minute and imagine the (then) cube dweller with the virtual job mingling with humans. It was a little horrifying and I had to have a drink when I was finished. It was particularly horrifying because I wasn’t the only woman with this skinny leg problem. I feel so sullied and marginalized by shoe designers.
My first stop was a large shoe warehouse store filled with acres and acres of footwear. Most of it in Not My Size. I walked down the boot aisle and noticed a tiny blonde reaching for a box of boots. Her legs were delicate little twigs perched on baby feet. I was bitter when I saw her, I bet those boots will glide onto her legs and hug her knee…size 6 my ass…but when I saw the flappity flap of the boot top as it teased the back of her knee my mean girl shut up and the sister in me wanted to hug her. Oh I felt her pain when she muttered a slight oath while looking down at her youthful gams.
“I can’t find boots either.” I said wearily as I sat down on the footstool. “My feet are big my legs are skinny.”
“Me too…” piped in a lithe brunette. “I’m about to give it up. No boots for me.”
“I just don’t want to spend a mortgage payment on boots.”
“Yeah, I saw some Frye’s I might just have to go for it.” My blonde sister said as she removed the loose boot. “I’m just sick of seeing all the ‘wide’ boots. What about us!” She pointed at the three of us and we huddled in solidarity. This new found Sisterhood of the Skinny legs.
Before I could start a mournful chorus of “We Shall Overcome” shoe store lady came over to see if we needed any help. We waved her away and then bid one another good-bye each of us with a battle plan. Mine was The Fancy Department Store from San Francisco and paying out the ass for boots. They each promised a more thorough Internet search. We wished each other well and parted our spirits buoyed because it’s always good to know you aren’t alone in your desperation. My skinny legs felt a lot less lonely after the shoe store. It helps to spend roughly airfare to Las Vegas on a pair of boots to know you aren’t the only woman who has freakishly skinny legs. (Fortunately the chest pain I had when I paid for the boots wasn’t anything to worry about)
So when Dr. Doctor made the proclamation: “You need boots for the ranch. There’s snakes out here. And you’ll look cute in cowboy boots” I had a little inside voice tantrum that went something like this: “NO NO NO!!! NO MORE BOOTS!! I’ll buy bathing suits, kitchen appliances, anything but not boots. . .” and then I mentally collapsed on the floor weeping over the memory of my last boot buying experience. I’m on a very strict budget and boots that won’t flap around my legs like I’m a six year old are expensive. Plus I would rather buy a flight with that money and mingle with humans at the airport than mingle with humans at shoe stores.