These boots were made for walking

Yeah, these boots know who's boss now. Say my name, boots. SAY IT!!!

Mm hmm, that's right.

Victory is mine. We never thought it would happen, but it did. I now have boots that hug my calves. After years and years of searching for that perfect fit.

The day: Boxing Day. Mom goes to me "Let's add to your Christmas present, you were saying your boots are dying (and oh, they are, the poor lil darlings) so let's go and get you a new pair."

Clearly, that meant that come hell or high water, we were going to find me that ever-sought-after high boots. I wasn't keeping my hopes up, and I told her that odds were I'd have to get a specialty fit at Tall Girl or some other expensive specialty store. I would not let her spend that kind of money on me so I let her know that I'd be perfectly happy with a pair like my Cloud 9s (but not exactly like my Cloud 9s, of course...'cuz I wouldn't expect her to spend even that much money.)

She looked at me like a General looks down upon a soldier who admits defeat even before the battle has begun.

We scoured 2 malls, not just one! I'd had enough after the first mall, but she insisted that we find me some new boots. Then a moment of absolute brilliance struck me. Stoneridge!

With renewed vigor I led my mom to Stoneridge, hoping that they still had that pair on clearance. Furthermore, I was hoping against all hope that the dang boots would fit. I had never tried them on.

And there they were...just my size left. It was like kismet. I cautiously took the pair from the sales associate. Sure they were my size, but that means nothing past the ankle. I tried to slide them on, already a hassle. I wrestled them on. Hmm...bit tight. (Tall arches) Limits the styles of socks I'll be able to wear with it. Now the ultimate test, I gingerly take the zipper pull between my finger and my thumb. Up goes the zipper pull. Oh my! Up...up...up...the little light of hope starts flickering to life. Oh my god, they're on! They fit! Thankfully (or perhaps not thankfully, since their size is a little less than desirable) my calves are somewhat firm so I do not suffer from much "quadra-calf" (having 4 calves instead of 2 *shudders). It is once again a wrestle to get them off. Mom is a bit hesitant to say we'll take them where as I'm practically ecstatic. F-me boots that fit! *swoons* I get to take them home with one condition between me, my mom, and the sales associate: if they don't stretch enough I'm supposed to come back and get them professionally stretched.

As soon as we got them home, and for a week thereafter, I was in boot camp training...so to speak. I wore them while watching TV, while on the computer, while eating dinner. Either those boots were going to stretch or my feet were going to get crumbled, something was going to give. Whoever said that the "art" of foot-binding was ancient and done was sooooo wrong. Just one look at Brown's or any of those trendy stores with those ridiculously hideous pointy-toed witch boots/shoes and you'll know the truth.

It has now been 3 weeks, I've been wearing these boots in public for the past 2. Now that me and my boots are on cordial terms we're an unstoppable pair. I love the height, I haven't had such tall heels in quite a while...and eveyrone knows what heels do for your butt. I also love the clack of that stacked wooden heel....so authoritative...so "I'm here, worship me now!"

Yes, me and my boots will go far. I still wear my Cloud 9s on occasion to make them feel loved, and I'll continue wearing them until they take their last steps. But these new boots are now my biatch. They scream my name.