Like, sometimes you have to stop listening to other people and just try stuff out for yourself to find out if you’re going to like it. This applies to countries. And jobs. And mooncakes. (Although, seriously, guys, you’re probably better off just not trying mooncakes. Take my word for it. Even though I just told you not to listen to anyone ever again.)
And, pretty much anything is going to taste better with pork. Even, maybe, mooncakes.
And, well, it’s entirely possible to live your life with only two pairs of shoes to your name. But I’m kind of using the word “live” here loosely because by the eighth month of wearing the same decaying pair over and over again, the world will lose all color and you’ll really wonder why you even bother getting out of bed in the morning. And then you’ll practically give yourself a concussion the one and only time you manage to find a pair of lady shoes in your size.
So, yeah, I know I don’t need a huge closet-full of shoes to survive.
But that hasn’t really stopped me from filling up my closet full of shoes since I returned to the States this summer.
Let’s just say I’ve been making up for lost shoes.
In my defense, I have really kind of needed most of these shoes. Sure, it was perfectly acceptable for me to show up to work in China looking like a hobo in fingerless gloves and mold-covered loafers.
But that’s not so much the case here at home. You see, my current job kind of expects me to dress like someone who, well, has a job.
Plus, I didn’t even have to buy all of these shoes.
Two of them I stole back from my sister. (Shhh. Don’t tell my sister.)And this adorable red pair of flats was given to me free by the internets.
And when the internets gives you free shoes, you just take it as a sign that you need new shoes. Not that I ever really needed a sign. But anyway.
You see, a few months ago one of my blog readers contacted me to tell me how much she loves reading my blog. And then, because she happens to work for a shoe company, she offered me a free pair of shoes.
Which, I think we can all agree, makes her the BEST BLOG READER EVER.
And these are not just any shoes.
These are Tieks.
Not only are they made of this super soft Italian leather, which makes them smell all fancy and expensive. They also fold in half, so you can pop them into your purse or carry-on. Or, you know, you can take them off in the middle of a party and amaze all your friends with your cool origami shoes. (I may or may not have done this. Twice.)
Plus, they arrived in this super adorable box complete with its very own sparkly flowery thingie. Seriously, guys, why don’t all shoes come with sparkly flowery thingies?
Unfortunately, it turned cold shortly after I got them, so I haven’t been able to wear them much. Although I do regularly get them out and admire them and think about all the fun things we will do together when I’m no longer forced to wear socks all the time.
And I’ve recently discovered the sparkly flowery thingie makes an adorable headband for my cat. Obviously, my cat agrees.While I haven’t had any trouble getting my hands or, err, feet on cute new shoes, I can’t say it’s been that easy peasy scoring myself a pair of kick butt lady boots.
You know the kind of boots that you put on and you’re suddenly a rockstar and a cowboy and a total bad ass all rolled up into one?
The kind of boots that make you feel like you can do anything.
The kind of boots that you can wear with skirts or leggings or skinny jeans. Even if you’re the type of person who should probably never, ever, ever wear skinny jeans because your legs just end up looking like poorly wrapped sausages.
But, who cares!
You’re a rockstar-cowboy-bad-ass!
You can wear whatever you want! And if the boots tell you that you can wear skinny jeans, then so be it!Ever since fall rolled around with its crunchy leaves and pumpkin-flavored everything, I’ve been staring longingly at the rows and rows of boots in the stores.
I even tried on a few pairs.
Even though I knew exactly how things were going to end up.
In case you’re wondering, this is how things end up: with me desperately trying to shove my massive man-calves into a flimsy tube of leather that was obviously not built to support such volume.
It’s kind of like watching a boa constrictor eat a goat.
Except less graceful.
I sought out boxes with stickers indelicately proclaiming the boots to be “Wide Shaft.” Or, even worse: “Extended Calf.” Which always just makes me feel like I’m shopping for a pickup truck rather than a pair of boots.
I finally gave up hope.
I figured I wasn’t meant to have nice lady boots. Even if my business card begs to differ.
I resigned myself to a life of men’s boots.
Or, worse, Uggs.And then I received a sign from God.
Well, actually it was a sign from the Facebook.
You know those little ads that pop up on the side of the Facebook that are usually trying to get you to order a Russian bride?
Well, one day an ad popped up advertising boots for big-calved ladies like myself. Because apparently even Facebook knows I possess the lower legs of a draft horse.
After clicking on the link and perusing through a dozen different boots, I finally settled on a pair of knee-high, black, leather ones.
They arrived a few days later in a box the size of a coffin. I eagerly pulled them out of the box, only briefly stopping to glance at the tag on the boot.
I slipped them on.
And, wonders of wonders, they fit!
I’ve worn them twice this week.
Both times I felt like a total rockstar-cowboy-bad-ass.
And like I should really maybe join a motorcycle gang already. Even though I’m super scared of motorcycles. And gangs.And then the boots tricked me into thinking I should go buy skinny jeans.
Or, at least, I’m pretty sure it was the boots’ fault. Because, really, I can’t explain why else I would find myself in a Target dressing room this week attempting to cram my lower half into something called a “denim legging.” It clearly was because the BOOTS TOLD ME TO DO IT.
I already knew pretty much how things were going to end up.
I should probably mention the denim leggings were snake-skin patterned.
So, remember the whole boa constrictor-eating-a-goat analogy?
Well, it was exactly like that.
Except, of course, less graceful.
I gave up, put them back on the hanger, and walked away.
Because, there’s another thing China taught me about life: just because it’s available in an animal print, doesn’t make it right.What item of clothing always makes you feel like a total rockstar-cowboy-bad-ass?