Chilly damp weather invites welcomed changes to the wardrobe. Soft sweaters, turtlenecks, comfy tunics, all coordinated with skinny jeans and knee-high boots battle the ‘brrrs’ AND match my youthful spirit. (I will never readily admit that my spirit and my body my not need to be wearing the same outfits. Thought for a separate column).
Back to those knee-high boots for a moment. Now and then I reminisce longingly for the galoshes of my youth. Remember that button/elastic loop closing? Easy peasy for youngsters’ hands; would be, too, for these baby boomer hands that have lost some muscle.
I don’t recall how my go-go boots went on later as a hippie wanna-be. Always on the run as I was, they couldn’t have been too bothersome to lace or snap or zip. That optimistic attitude prevailed when I bought my last boots, I suppose.
The first pair is plain and functional, a bit sporty and easy to shine. Zipping is not too much trouble as long as my calves stay the same size; the zipper clasp could be a bit easier to grasp, but with wardrobe hacks popping up all over Facebook, I have that conquered.
That second pair, now, creates a bit more challenge. Had it not been for a fantastic sales incentive, I wouldn’t own such a boot. They sport TWO zippers; the longer one runs up the inside of my leg and the shorter is on the outside on a bit of a cape which gives the pair a country/western look. Now I’m a cowgirl wanna-be. The zipper clasp is hard to see and harder to feel, so I am a bit flustered before I even start zipping. Since I put my footwear on last thing before heading out the door, I am usually in a hurry. I can work up a sweat in blizzard temps putting them on.
Reversing the process to remove them signals uncalled-for distress. First aspect to remember is that one of the zippers zips up; the other zips down. Of course I never can remember which one is which way, and since I am usually taking them off at night in a semi-darkened room, fumbling for the zipper clasps promotes the excess perspiration I already mentioned.
Once unzipping is accomplished, I pause briefly to contemplate shedding restricting clothes before proceeding. When one is wearing sweaters and tunics over skinny jeans, restricting clothing is the UNDERCLOTHING. (A cartoon-like image of me calling for an ambulance because I have fallen and can’t get up, sporting only knee-high boots and jeans, means if I partially undress I put on the 2X nightshirt before continuing).
My legs and feet don’t change sizes that drastically during a long day so I can’t offer a reasonable explanation for the contortions worthy of a Circque du Soleil performance that I go through to get those darn boots off. The wear and tear on them is hardly from donning them often; that is solely from yanking and tugging, pushing and prying. Were you aware you can get charlie horses in your muffin top? Neither was I, until…
Then there is the added dilemma of putting them on the wrong feet, once in a great while. My reasonable explanation is the cape-thingy that makes them appear more countrified, AND having two zippers each. Of course, putting them on as I go out the door leaves no time to notice until I am peering at them from a church pew or from the lectern at Toastmasters.
Need I add there is no quick-change when that happens. I’m in the right boots/wrong feet for the duration. Not much different from wrong boots/right feet in this instance. All one can do is laugh.
Unless it’s from a church pew…