Monday, March 29, 2010

Vagina Boots

About eight years ago, some friends of mine and I got tickets to "The Vagina Monologues". As the date of the show was fast approaching, I started to panic that I didn't have anything remotely adequate enough for making my debut at a performance about...well...the infamous nether-regions. We weren't loaded with cash at the time, so I borrowed an outfit from a friend. It was kind of boring, actually- a lemon colored suede skirt and black jacket. I was afraid of appearing more like a bumble-bee than a hip mama, so I ran to the thrift store and trolled for some funky footwear- I mean if the top half of me had to be ho-hum, maybe I could deck my tootsies with something a bit more exciting. And lo and behold, I found these boots-barely worn, moderate heal, covered totally in a silk-like "Pucci-Style" fabric. I immediately knew those were the ones- those were gonna be my "vagina boots". Relieved, I paid $3.99, and on the big night, I squeezed into those delightful things, feeling like a million bucks. They were a size too small, but I continued to wear them anytime I needed a boost. Somehow, along the way, though, my superhero toe-tents got lost, never to return or be replaced.

Fast forward to present time, last Friday to be exact, and I found myself longing for some foot power. I was headed out on the town, with a few friends, and being that I've got a little more girth these days, and I don't really have much of a night-life, I knew those vagina boots would be just the trick...if only....so I found a substitute in a hot little tank-top, a slinky turquoise number, and after flinging about four thousand sets of pants/jackets around my bedroom, and polling my husband and children for their votes, I settled on my first choice and strolled into the evening, marginally confident.

We all feel a little down on ourselves from time to time- maybe we've aged a bit faster than expected, or there's the distinct presence of what appears to be an innertube where our waist used to be. I like to think that there's power to be found in the right accessory- something that, even for a minute, will make you forget that you didn't turn out as perfect as you imagined you'd be when you were nine and the world lay ahead of you. I believe that there is always something you can gift yourself, something to give you an edge over that nasty little head-voice (the one that tells you your pants make you look fat and the magic girdle underwear you squeezed into isn't really giving you a flat belly- just a smoother lump).

So here's to the power of my vagina boots- wherever they be right now.

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Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, United States
Forty-three year-old, mother and staunch advocate of four young children, passionate warrior of truth and self, finding the soul in each day, sharing my struggles and triumphs as I live them. Mostly I do this for me, so my thoughts don't race as much at night as they used to. But I also give this to those of you who need to know, in any or every way, that you are not alone.

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