What Happens When Rockin’ Boots, Fried Fish, Tall Girls & the KY Countryside Collide

This story starts the way many great stories start – with a great pair of awesome boots! I will go ahead and confess to my serious boot fetish. I’ve thought about seeking help but when I thought about it, I decided ‘d rather have boots than mental stability. Hey, I’ve made my peace with it you guys should too.

To make up for all the days I wear my granny panties, don’t shower and wear sweats, I dress to the hilt for my husband on his birthday. I’m telling you girls, it’s the cheapest gift ever. Take one day a year, dress a little slutty and put the money you save for his gift toward a great pair of boots. Men go nuts for it. This year I had to tone down the slutty because we were going out in public. Be as slutty as you want to be at home but know when to clean it up, ladies.

Anyway…..men have a thing about long-legged women, my husband especially. Therefore I wear heels to elongate my legs for him. I’m 5’8″ so I really don’t need the heels but whatever. It’s his day right? Steve is a bit shorter than me when I’m barefoot so you’d think he’d have a Tom Cruise complex about his height, but he doesn’t. He loves for me to wear heels even though that means his head is level with my chest. Oh, okay I see now why he likes it. Well…..moving on.

At my height these fav boots of mine put me over six feet tall. The skinny, partially stone-washed jeans I wore, gave the illusion of my body being comprised of legs alone. So, yes, the boots get me a lot of attention. The problem is that if I were in the Friends sitcom the men looking at me would go from Joey’s “How you doin’?” to Chandler’s “Aah!” in seconds. A tall confident woman in high heels is sexy. A tall confident woman just trying to remain upright – not so much. The distance between a hot leggy-chic and funny girl on stilts is surprisingly short.

When I wear my boots I make Steve walk really slow so it takes longer for people to realize I have no idea how to walk in heels. Otherwise, I’d just be stomping along scaring little kids. But evidently my altitude on heals makes my thinking a little fuzzy. So, when Steve said we were going to a fish fry I’m visualizing a metal building with smooth flooring in the city. I thought it was an odd birthday request but hey, I’m saving money for my next pair of boots so I don’t care.

Turns out the fish fry isn’t in the city. It’s not even in a building. It’s in the country. Do you know what’s in the country of Kentucky? Well, thankfully it was upscale country so I didn’t have to step around any smelly dark rings cows leave, if you know what I mean. You’d think Steve would tell me I’m over dressed but I’m beginning to think he prefers mocking his wife over having a sexy wife.

Did I mention the fun added by walking in heels on moist ground? That means I’m either towering over everyone or sinking below them. So, here I am walking around on my toes just trying to stay upright. Then I hear it. Laughter. I know they’re laughing at me because I’d be laughing at me. “What kind of idiot wears spike heeled boots to a fish fry?” Is what I’d be thinking. But then I realize I’d also be thinking, “What a great pair of boots”, so I no longer care.

I’m so clearly overdressed for the event I should be shamed but I’m not. Instead I’m pointing out to people how ridiculous it is for me to be wearing heels. I started asking people to walk by me a little slower because their wind sheer might knock me over. Nothing like laughing at yourself to get everyone else going.

In between grasping fence posts to remain upright, I began having more fun than if I was running around bare-foot. Which, by the way, was suggested more than once. What’s the moral of this story? I convinced my husband he has a hot wife, had fun making others laugh and bought myself another year of guilt-free comfy clothes.  Turns out slutty girl isn’t near as sexy or fun as goofy girl. Who knew?

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