Bah to Boots

It happened again last night. There I was, in Westfield shopping centre, trying to squish my calf into a new-season boot. Why do I think my curvy calves will have somehow shrunk in the wash of August? Each year I seem to completely forget and get seduced by leather and buckles. Oh the folly.

Even if I get said calf into said boot, there are two problems. Namely:

1. How to get calf out again. A tug of war with me, calf, boot, and sales assistant may be very entertaining for thin-calved onlookers, but rather demoralising for the one who is being winched out of nice footwear.
   
   
2. Calf bulge. This is where the calf blossoms like a mushroom over a particularly sturdy stalk, and it is not the type of look one tends to aim for in life.

As much as I love autumn, it does come with a boot-shaped shadow.

Even boots that look massive don’t fit me. This of course does nothing for the self-esteem as I lurk around the ‘wide-leg’ aisle. I find myself suffering from acute symptoms of ‘calf envy’ as I watch others pulling on boots with ease, not needing to tuck and tug at the zip. They look so happy! So carefree! They have so much choice!

Yesterday’s foray into the depressing world of fat-boot shopping was just a small taste of what is to come. Sadly current boots are on their way out, so I do have to find another pair. I promise I will love you and take care of you! The only thing you have to do to make me happy is to fit.