This is my boot. Specifically, my right boot.
I’m not the first chubby girl to complain of such, but it’s hard to find boots that close over my calves; they’re just too fat. I still buy boots sometimes, though, and I muscle those zippers up with determination. I may squeeze my calves into oblivian and I may be left with horrible red indentations. And maybe I flounce around with muffin top calves. But whatever. Sometimes I engange in commerce and exchange money for boots.
These particular boots are causing me an awesome bit of pain that I’d like to document here. So there’s that boot up there. See the wrinkles around the ankle? See that crease? The dent pressing in? Well that little bitch is like a baseball bat that’s been whacking me in the ankle all day long, leaving me with a red evil welt just above my ankle. If only my calf were just a wee bit thinner, then the boot might be contented to stay up there where it should. Instead, it tries to be sly and slip down lower, to where the goods are a bit thinner – thus evil creases.
I like them, though, these boots of mine and chances are I will wear them again and the welt gremlin will reappear. Perhaps he and I should just try to be friends. I’m going to call him Curtis.
margaret edith 