Boot Season

So, boot season is here again.  I loooooove boots.  I think it's probably my favorite shoe to wear and own.  However, I have a secret related to boot season that I feel I must share.  Maybe someone will know of a support group I can join.  I love boots, but I don't own as many as I wish I did.  I prefer the ones that are at least knee high.  And why exactly don't I own many of these knee high boots that I love so much?  I...have...abnormally large calves.  Man calves.  Body-builder calves.  I'm not kidding people.  It's a serious issue.  So many cute boots out there to try on.  But that's all I can do, try them on, try and force them over my calves, throw them on the floor in defeat, and storm out of all these stores that are prejudiced against my kind.

I don't know how I got this way.  I've always been athletic, but have never done anything so serious as to make my calves grow exponentially.  Maybe genetic?  I just mentioned this issue to my sister, and asked if she had big calves too.  She said, "They're not small."  So, there we go.  We can start our own support group now.

The last time I went shopping for boots was with Ryan and my brother-in-law, Alex, last time we went to visit Oregon (Ryan's home.)  After many past boot seasons of searching for some UGGs to no avail, I decided to try again.  Who knows, maybe Oregon is used to bigger calved people?  I've never really tried to shop on the West Coast before.  Yeah, I'm sure everything will be different this time.  Not at all.  Even Alex tried to help me. "Hey, it looks like this pair might fit over your calves.  Or what about his pair over here?"  No on both accounts.  Thanks for trying though, Alex.

So now, here is where I stand, in flip flops of course.  No new boots for years now.  And now, the cutest boots are out for the season.  The leather, with not much of a heel, with a little buckle around the ankle, preferably brown boots.  Every time I pass them in a store, I stare longingly at them, and then look away in shame as I exit the premises.  Ryan told me he'll get me a pair for Christmas, but I told him not to bother.  No one wants to cry on Christmas morning.

Please contact me if you know of a store that caters to my kind.