I laid my eyes
on it and the world was never the same again.
I was happily
minding my own business, nonchalantly going through the motions of
weekdays and weekends, trying to keep my balance, hanging on to my
center, when The Thing caught my attention. What ensued was more than
love at first sight. I could not eat, I could not sleep, I even grew
a pimple so big, my 'flow partner' and girlfriend Glen would have
called it a boil. May pigsa ka sa cheeks, she would have said.
I wasn't searching
for it. It wasn't looking for me either. But when we did meet, the
elements of time, space and matter became suspended. I did not see
fireworks, nor did I feel the earth move, but I heard Pavarotti sing
the encore of "Nessun dorma."
I have to have
it, I thought. That is, if it doesn't have me. Yet.
It is shiny black.
It is knee-high. It is both beautiful and ugly and this where the
caveat lies. It is hideous in its splendor, it is ghastly in its grandeur.
It is so disturbing in an avant-gardish way, my friend Lizeth would
say, "Ugh, how gross!" Myra would shriek and scream, "Golly
wow, they are funky!" And Lynn, she's the one who would blurt
out, "It is so trendy you have no use for it when the season
is over."
Who cares? I ask.
Get your own lives! Or pair of boots. I snap back. It's my boots,
my feet, my life!
I entered the
shop and gazed at my object of decadent desire. The urge to touch
it bordered on absolute hedonism, if not unconditional fetishism.
It was almost sinful the way I planned to caress, stroke, and fondle
the object. Many years down the road, when my number is up, I'm sure
St. Peter would ask for an accounting of my time spent with these
leathers. They were once live skins, I could hear him say! But oh,
St. Peter, where does it say that it is wrong to spend time in Shoe
Heaven? And besides, why don't you check up on the golfers of this
planet, like my friends Beeps and Mags? They spend so much time on
the greens called Golf Heaven!
You don't need
another pair of black boots, I tried to convince myself. "Would
you like to try them on?" asked the salesgirl. Santisima.
She's a tease.
My guardian angels
turned the alarm signals on, with the Lead Angel screaming, "Walk
away now, you don't want to cross that bridge!"
"Who said
I'm going that road?" I asked back. "Come on, I am in control
of my life. Kunyari."
"We carry
only six pairs of them, one for each size, "butted the salesgirl
in. She looks so fresh, MTV-young and Esprit-generic. Charming that
she is, and without her knowing it, she was turning me into a Dudette
With Boots Dilemma by the minute.
I sat down, took
my shoes off and tried the boots on. Darn, the leather felt so gentle
around my legs. I could imagine the coming winter days. They would
be sooooooo cold, the moisture in my eyes would want to freeze. When
the wind chill factors hit, not even the memories of hot summer days
would help. But with these boots on, I told myself, I would carry
that warm feeling, like fire in my heart, flame in my soul.
"You are
trying to rationalize," I heard Lead Angel say, Oh, why is she
so
logical?
I stood up to
test the heels, Aaaaahhhhhhh, the heels. They are seven inches high
and shaped like hourglasses. This is the part where my girlfriends
Lizeth, Myra and Lynn would become outspoken and opinionated, backed
up by their indi vidual insights, paradigms and perspectives about
shoes. And about life.
To the conservative,
my boots would be a declaration of anarchy. It would make the nuns
shake their heads and say, "When we released you to this world,
you were a colegiala." This pair of boots would catch
the Mother Superior's attention. I would be called into her office,
listen to an hours lecture on sensible shoes, then sent off to the
chapel to recite all the mysteries, but only after parting with a
couple of Deutsche Marks for the colegio's charitable projects.
The Jesuit fathers
would clap their hands. ADNU's Father Phelan would say, "She
wears the boots of somebody who slipped out of the mold."
Respect for rebels
for rebellion's sake! My friend Chito describes it best:
"She's the HS69 eGroup's resident agitator!" But then of
course he is a 1081 survivor and he drools over nouns that end with
the syllable "or", especially with the word moderator.
And then I know
someone who would think that these boots are sensuous and sybaritic
but only because they would touch the skin of my legs, the same legs
that connect to the thighs, the same thighs that adjoin the never
mind. Bitin. Hanggang tingin ka lang, hoy!
And in the middle
of all this shoe narcissism and boots egoism, I try to find
my balance and retain my sanity. Shoes and boots are my personal statements,
I could not say this often enough. I wear them, they don't wear me,
after my credo, if Your Boots Are Sexier Than You, You Have A Problem.
I don't have this
problem. Do you?
* * * * * * *
* * * * *
Shared by Lou
M. Wisker
