Being me

A foot note posting from last night;

Being in close proximity to people means that I am under the proverbial gun as far as scrutiny goes, both the normal type from females as we scope out each other and compare ourselves in a system that is designed to cause anxiety and misery, and then my own special brand of scrutiny that is perhaps largely imagined yet very real.

So… I’m dressed in a manner that could be best described as a cross between female ninja, crumpled and crazy woman with wild hair and no one gives me the evil eye. No makeup, no hat, no nothing – just me.

For the first hour I was edgy – convinced that people would start pointing at me and whispering about the weirdo, quietly laughing about the freak.

Nope.

People smiled, made small talk, asked pertinent questions. That was totally unexpected, or perhaps at this point it was expected but I did not want to set myself up for dissapointment.

Anyhow.

I said boots…

I had a full blown attack of Boot Envy last night – one of the women was wearing black lace up boots that rose from the floor to just below her knees. These are the real deal – not the currently fashionable ones that you actually zip up from the side.

I managed to schmooze my way over to have a quick conversation with her. “I love your boots…”

A big smile from her as we exchange hellos, names, and then get down to business as she tells me how much she loves her boots and the time that it takes to lace them up. I try to no avail to convince her that she should give me her boots. Not a chance.

Later in the evening I managed to sit down with my accomplices for a few glasses of wine and a bit of a wine, whine and bitch session. I ask who the girl with the great boots was.

“Great boobs?”

No! the girl in the black dress and lace up boots.

The owner of the boots is quickly identified as is the relative merit of her boobs.

The conversation turns to boot envy, opinions offered about the merits of the owner of the boots boobs, and the relative kinkiness of Montreal, Ottawa, Vancouver and Victoria. I’m getting a bit pickled at this point and I’m enjoying the conspiratorial mood of the people involved in this little tete-a-tete.

Boots and boobs.

As it turns out they are both fairly dependable topics for conversation.

Who would have thought…