To my ugly boots: I like you anyway.

Some random stranger stopped me on the street the other day to point out that my boots were ugly.  I tried to imagine briefly that it was sarcasm, that maybe he was really thinking they were ridiculously hot, and in was an odd attempt to flirt decided to insult me.  I think I may have even imagined him ogling me a little… But really I think he was just cross eyed and I was simply grasping for some type of affirmation that my boots (and I) are really really nice looking.

They’re not.  My boots are ugly.  I wear them everyday, most of the time with equally ugly clothes they don’t really go with.  They’re cheap and faded.  They have holes near the heal and the soles are pealing off.   They’re splattered with paint and usually mud.  One of the zippers is broken so in it’s place is a mess of tangled frayed mismatched proof that I’ll never find success as a seamstress.  

I’d like to think there’s more to aspire to than owning pretty shoes . . . or new cars, and designer clothes and coach bags.  My boots are an ugly glaring attestation to my self -righteous joy in rejecting those things.   But then – hypocritical as I am –  all it takes is some random creepy guy to make me feel self conscious and I start wishing really badly that I had an extra $700 to spend on useless things like  prada flatforms ….

I’m trying to write a post for each of my paintings.
This one really has nothing to do with anything, except that  part of this painting probably dripped on the boots.  available here

Self portrait in ugly boots

3 thoughts on “To my ugly boots: I like you anyway.

  1. I wouldn’t go so far as to call them “ugly”, but…in that picture, they do kinda look like stockings that Ed Gein would make from dead grandmas. Which you wear very well!

  2. Your post cracks me up but I wouldn’t call your boots ugly either…that guy was just kinda rude. Who cares about boots anyway – your artwork is truly beautiful…that’s way more important than shoes any day of the week.

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