I wrote this a while ago, when i bought my first pair of boots. Im turning it for an application for write girl, an organization that mentors young teenage girls with their creative writing. Lets hope they like me!
08/03/2008
BOOTS
Theyre heavy. Theyre painful. Theyre too hot to wear in this sweltering heat. Theyre ridiculously overpriced. No one wears them anymore, in fact, I think they went out of style somewhere around 1999. Theyre still awesome. I love them. Doctor Martens fourteen hole, leather combat boots imported from England priced at $140.71 after taxes. I finally got them.
I was fourteen when I first spotted them in some teen fashion magazine. I cant remember which one it was but Im pretty sure it was probably Y&M (Young & Modern) seeing as how that was my favorite one in middle school. I dont even know why I wanted them or why I want them now. Maybe because all the cool rocker kids I wanted to belong to had them. They were the coolest crowd at Fairfax senior high. No, scratch that. They were the coolest crowd anywhere. Fishnet stockings, colored hair, leather boots with the infamous yellow stitching man I would have killed to belong. But I couldnt. Even if I did rock out to Bush, Drop Kick Murphys, Marilyn Manson , flogging Molly and all the music they were listening to. So instead I admired from afar in my pullover sweaters and sketchers because thats all my mom could afford at the time. I never had the nerve to ask my mom for them, even on my birthday or Christmas when she was known to splurge a little. Dad had run away with his fourth wife two years earlier and mom was still recovering from cancer. How do you ask a single mom for a pair of European combat boots just cause you want to fit in? Yo ma! After youre done chasing dad for child support and right before you head into your cancer surgery can you get me some boots? No, no, no, not some shoes, not some dressy boots but the $150 dollar boots from Europe. Yeah, those. Thanks in advance. Even if I did ask politely, thats all she would hear. I knew better than to ask.
So on I went, wearing my beat up, worn out sketchers and heather grey pullovers from Target. I sat across from that crowd during lunch and admired while munching on my government chalupa. After school Id walk down Melrose Avenue and admire the pretty boots Id never get. When the sales-lady would give me dirty looks, Id walk out empty handed and my head bowed in shame.
When I was sixteen I got my older sisters worn out hand me down Docs. My mom had bought them for her when she was in middle school, back when my parents were still together and times were better for us, not just financially but all around. Now that she was 25 she had no use for them and they were too beat up to wear anyways. But thats exactly how the kids at school wore them so it worked out for me. They werent the fourteen holes but hey, they had the infamous yellow stitching and they were better than nothing. They helped me fit in and lasted long enough to put me through culinary school. I wore them out until the oil resistant sole was no longer oil resistant and there was a hole on the right side of one of them from the time I dropped a knife in third semester.
I have a few more friends now but Im still socially awkward as all hell. My dads somewhere with his fifth wife now so its obvious time has passed by. My mom doesnt have cancer anymore. Were not as poor as we used to be and I no longer have to eat the government lunch at school. I can afford to pay for my meal now. I dont have to ask my mom for shoes anymore. I still rock out to Drop Kick Murphys, The Cure, Flogging Molly, Viernes 13, Save Ferris, and Bad Religion who Im listening to right now. Latch Key Kids for the win. My hair is a bright magenta with crimson bangs and my lip is pierced for the second time. I may even get it a third time, well see. I still want my Dr. Martens, not someone elses hand-me-downs. I want my own fourteen hole Dr. Martens, even if the cool kids no longer wear them and even if I dont care to fit in with them anymore. I still want those damn boots and guess what? Today, at the age of 24, I finally got them. In fact, I wore them out the store.
Im still wearing despite the 90 degree weather and the blisters and welts that have formed on my legs. I have yet to learn how to walk in such heavy boots so I look a little funny and awkward in them but so what. Theyre not exactly practical or fashionable and maybe you dont understand why it was so important that I would still want them well over ten years after the first time I spotted them in a teen bopper magazine. See, these boots has been on my list of many triumphant dreams that Ive had for a long time, along with owning a goat and publishing a book under a fake name. It may not make sense to you but then again thats always been subjective. So when you see me walking kind of funny, stomping around or pretending to kick my friends ass just know that the 14 year old socially awkward girl inside me is on top of the world.
08/03/2008
BOOTS
Theyre heavy. Theyre painful. Theyre too hot to wear in this sweltering heat. Theyre ridiculously overpriced. No one wears them anymore, in fact, I think they went out of style somewhere around 1999. Theyre still awesome. I love them. Doctor Martens fourteen hole, leather combat boots imported from England priced at $140.71 after taxes. I finally got them.
I was fourteen when I first spotted them in some teen fashion magazine. I cant remember which one it was but Im pretty sure it was probably Y&M (Young & Modern) seeing as how that was my favorite one in middle school. I dont even know why I wanted them or why I want them now. Maybe because all the cool rocker kids I wanted to belong to had them. They were the coolest crowd at Fairfax senior high. No, scratch that. They were the coolest crowd anywhere. Fishnet stockings, colored hair, leather boots with the infamous yellow stitching man I would have killed to belong. But I couldnt. Even if I did rock out to Bush, Drop Kick Murphys, Marilyn Manson , flogging Molly and all the music they were listening to. So instead I admired from afar in my pullover sweaters and sketchers because thats all my mom could afford at the time. I never had the nerve to ask my mom for them, even on my birthday or Christmas when she was known to splurge a little. Dad had run away with his fourth wife two years earlier and mom was still recovering from cancer. How do you ask a single mom for a pair of European combat boots just cause you want to fit in? Yo ma! After youre done chasing dad for child support and right before you head into your cancer surgery can you get me some boots? No, no, no, not some shoes, not some dressy boots but the $150 dollar boots from Europe. Yeah, those. Thanks in advance. Even if I did ask politely, thats all she would hear. I knew better than to ask.
So on I went, wearing my beat up, worn out sketchers and heather grey pullovers from Target. I sat across from that crowd during lunch and admired while munching on my government chalupa. After school Id walk down Melrose Avenue and admire the pretty boots Id never get. When the sales-lady would give me dirty looks, Id walk out empty handed and my head bowed in shame.
When I was sixteen I got my older sisters worn out hand me down Docs. My mom had bought them for her when she was in middle school, back when my parents were still together and times were better for us, not just financially but all around. Now that she was 25 she had no use for them and they were too beat up to wear anyways. But thats exactly how the kids at school wore them so it worked out for me. They werent the fourteen holes but hey, they had the infamous yellow stitching and they were better than nothing. They helped me fit in and lasted long enough to put me through culinary school. I wore them out until the oil resistant sole was no longer oil resistant and there was a hole on the right side of one of them from the time I dropped a knife in third semester.
I have a few more friends now but Im still socially awkward as all hell. My dads somewhere with his fifth wife now so its obvious time has passed by. My mom doesnt have cancer anymore. Were not as poor as we used to be and I no longer have to eat the government lunch at school. I can afford to pay for my meal now. I dont have to ask my mom for shoes anymore. I still rock out to Drop Kick Murphys, The Cure, Flogging Molly, Viernes 13, Save Ferris, and Bad Religion who Im listening to right now. Latch Key Kids for the win. My hair is a bright magenta with crimson bangs and my lip is pierced for the second time. I may even get it a third time, well see. I still want my Dr. Martens, not someone elses hand-me-downs. I want my own fourteen hole Dr. Martens, even if the cool kids no longer wear them and even if I dont care to fit in with them anymore. I still want those damn boots and guess what? Today, at the age of 24, I finally got them. In fact, I wore them out the store.
Im still wearing despite the 90 degree weather and the blisters and welts that have formed on my legs. I have yet to learn how to walk in such heavy boots so I look a little funny and awkward in them but so what. Theyre not exactly practical or fashionable and maybe you dont understand why it was so important that I would still want them well over ten years after the first time I spotted them in a teen bopper magazine. See, these boots has been on my list of many triumphant dreams that Ive had for a long time, along with owning a goat and publishing a book under a fake name. It may not make sense to you but then again thats always been subjective. So when you see me walking kind of funny, stomping around or pretending to kick my friends ass just know that the 14 year old socially awkward girl inside me is on top of the world.