My New Love

I recently purchased my very first pair of cowboy boots. Granted, they’re from Eddie Bauer and not what most would consider “true” cowboy boots. But still. Cowboy boots they are.

I went back and forth for about a week, internally debating whether or not to buy them. Would I really wear them enough to justify the money, even though I caught them on a pretty good sale? Did I really need them, even though, as I learned long ago from my mother, it’s not always about need? Plus, since I delayed a number of days on account of indecisiveness, my original color choice (brown) sold out in my size. That only left me with gray, which I REALLY wasn’t sure I would wear.

I ordered the boots in the gray anyway, figuring I could always return them to my local EB store if I decided I didn’t want to keep them.

Well, that ain’t happenin’. I LOVE my new boots.

These boots are cute, comfortable, and they make a loud, sharp sound when walked in on non-carpeted flooring. (I just love that sound. It makes me feel powerful.) I also ended up really liking the color. The gray is different enough to be interesting but not so different that it won’t go with a lot of the clothes I own. Perfect!

I wore my new boots this weekend when my mom and I went out to lunch and did some shopping at Loft. I must have told her half a dozen times, “I love my boots.”

I realize this post is a tad on the ironic side, considering what I wrote about a few days ago. But I can love my new boots AND still take them off the moment I walk into my house.

That way I can admire them from afar. In all of their gray glory.

And at the same time not interfere with my barefoot inclinations.