Beautiful Knee High Boots

Today I was at the salon to have my hair done. Whenever I go to the salon I read People magazine. Today I read an article about Katy Holmes and Tom Cruise. The article questioned whether or not Katy was really pregnant.

Apparently some people think her bump looks fake - that it might be a prosthetic. I think this is a little ridiculous. I did question whether she was actually pregers in the beginning of her pregnancy, but as her bump grew my doubt disappeared. So anyways. One of the "reasons" the article cited as a reason to raise suspicion was that in the weeks preceeding the birth she was seen shopping for shoes - obsessively. They said that a woman that is 9 months pregnant does not think about shoes and is too tired and uncomfortable and her feet and ankles are too swollent to care about shoes.

Whoever wrote this is obviously not a woman...and has obviously never been pregnant. I think it is a pretty well-known fact that 99.99% of the female population has a shoe fetish...and just because one's body changes does not change the pleasure shoes bring to a lady.

As a matter of fact. When I was 9 months pregnant with my first child I too obsessed over shoes. I mean, the only thing that stilled looked human about me were my feet. So I obsessed over shoes. I couldn't fit into my cool, stylish outfits anymore...but I could still wear pretty shoes.

The ninth month of my pregnancy was December. It was the year that knee high boots came into high fashion. My super-stylish and super-thin sister had like 20 pairs of knee high boots in different styles...some were conservative for work...some were downright slutty for going out on the town. My sister and I both worked in the Financial District so we would hook up for lunch and shop. I would follow her around enviously watching her try on and buy all sorts of really cool outfits and really great shoes...especially knee high boots.

One afternoon she was buying yet another pair of knee high boots. This particular pair was slightly vampy with four inch heels. I said I wanted to buy a pair too. She told me a woman in her ninth month of pregnancy should not be wearing 4 inch heels. I told her I just wanted to look stylish again. She said I had a stylish coat.

I did love my coat. It was mid-thigh length with slightly bell shaped sleeves. It was sort of a faux fur looking gig - the kind that looks a bit like baby lambs wool - lumpy, bumpy and black. It was a very stylish coat.

So I decided, maybe she was right. I could wait another month to get the beautiful knee high boots.

But for the rest of the afternoon my mind kept drifting back to those boots. The novelty of my blossoming belly had long worn off. I was sick of being huge and round. I just wanted to be fashionable again...I wanted to feel pretty...I wanted to look cool...I wanted a pair of beautiful knee high boots!

5 o'clock came around and even though I was exhausted and achey, I was gettin me some boots! Filene's was just 11 blocks down the street. I would have to walk 5 blocks past my T station...but it would be worth it. I would have a pair of super cool, super sexy, super beautiful knee high boots!

I headed out into the streets.

December in Boston is COLD and WINDY! - Especially in the Financial District where the tall buildings create long tunnels of wind. Nonetheless, in my ninth month of pregnancy I was an inferno of heat. I had my own little space heater and it was on full blast. I staggered down those icy streets with my coat open wide, gloveless and hatless - hot and huffing with the exertion of walking. Every once in a while I would yelp in pain and my knees would buckle as a stab of pain tore down my thigh as my spastic nerve got pinched between my loose pregnant joints. Some people would jump back in horror. Some people would leap forward with great concern. Everyone thought I was going into labor. I wasn't. I was just miserably, horribly pregnant. Each slippery step caused me to clench my jaw and grimmace at the pain shooting up my back and across my pelvis. By this time of the day my belly felt so heavy it felt like it might touch the ground (which would be something of a relief because then the ground could take some of the weight off my back) and it felt as if my baby might fall out of me if I relaxed.

I didn't relax.

I couldn't relax.

I had to get those beautiful knee high boots.

When I finally reached the department store I felt very proud of myself. I had conquered mother nature's cruel metamorphasis to my body and further foiled her meteorlogical attempts to deter my lusty desire for those beautiful knee high boots.

I struggled up to the second floor where the shoe department was. I picked a pair of boots with a sensible heel and found a sales person to get my size. I sat down in a seat to wait for my beautiful knee high boots.

The chair felt quite snug for my girth, especially since I still had my coat on. But I was too tired to struggle through the task of taking it off...it was a really exhausting walk. Besides, I was in a bit of a rush - I was eager to get home to put my feet up and rest my back...and zonk out. I wanted to be on my way as soon as I tried these bad boys on and paid for them.

Before long the salesman returned a pair of beautiful knee high boots.

In order to reach my feet I had to sit with my legs straddled like a sumo wrestler and lean to one side. When I did this I squished my belly and my baby would kick me in protest. I said, "Shut up kid. Mommy needs some beautiful knee high boots."

I pulled my sneakers off and tugged the boots onto my feet. I began to pull up the zipper. It was a little snug but I was deteremined to get these puppies up. So I tugged harder. I used my other hand to squish in my calf - make it a little skinner so I could get the zipper up.

Whew.

It took me a while but I managed to get the zipper up. That was exhausting! I was covered in sweat and huffing from the work of it. Now to get the other boot on. I had to put the other boot on too or I wouldn't be able to see the whole beautiful picture. It too was a lot of work. But I did it. By God I Did It!!!

The beautiful knee high boots were zipped and on me!

I stood up, coat open wide, sweat dripping down my forehead, hair clinging to my face, smiling eagerly with anticipation. I couldn't wait to see me. I was going to be one hot and stylish pregnant woman in beautiful knee high boots.

I looked like a turkey.

The long black boots only magnified the disproportion of my body. They made my legs look like skinny black sticks and my belly look hugely giganticly enourmous. The sleeves of my "stylish" coat looked like wings and its "cool" lumpy bumpy texture looked grotesquely animalesque.

Disappointed and exhausted I plunked back down into the chair to take the boots off.

I straddled my legs, leaned to one side to in order to reach my feet and my baby kicked me hard. "It's not nice to say I told you so!" I said to my baby.

I tugged on the zipper.

It was stuck.

Uh oh.

Well. They went on so they will come off. I tugged and tugged and struggled and struggled but the zipper would not come down.

I could feel someone watching me so I looked up embarressedly and tried to smile in good humor. "Hmmm. The zipper appears to be stuck. I guess my legs are a little swollen." She was a nice older lady. She understood. She came over to try to help me. No dice. She said she would get someone with more muscle. She gave me a reassuring pat and a wink as she disappeared around the corner to find help. A short while later she returned with a salesman.

They were chuckling together as she explained the situation to him.

He was a young guy. Cute. He looked like a nice guy. He had his hand on his chin and his head bent slightly into her as he listened intently to her story.

When he arrived at my chair he smiled and said, "in a little jam, are ya?"

I was horrified. He was so cute...and I was so huge! and PATHETIC!

He leaned down and tried to pull the zipper down. No dice. He tugged harder. He pushed his hand into the boot and tried to squish my leg skinnier. Still no luck. Determined, he braced my foot against his thigh and pulled...and pulled and pulled. The boot did not budge. He decided to call for backup. He called over another salesman.

By now a small crowd of passersby had collected to watch this absurd spectacle - This turkey stuffed into a department store chair with a pair of beautiful knee high boots on her feet...and two men pulling on her legs with all their might.

The men eventually managed to pull the boots off my feet. The zipper had broken in the process. We were all perspiring profusely and out of breath but the beautiful knee high boots were freed from bondage.

I sat there for a moment to catch my breath.

The salesmen stood up and brushed themselves off.

One man set about putting the boots away.

The other one...the cute one asked, "Do ya want to try another pair?"