Sunday, January 17, 2010

I don't believe in electricity.

These are my Amish boots:

I thrifted them sometime last year. Originally, they were for a dance at my school that was 90's themed...most people were breaking out the heinous bike shorts, croptops, legwarmers and shoulder pads that were for the most part inappropriate and categorically inaccurate (straighten out your 80's and 90's, freshmen!). I wanted to go in a Courtney Love-esque grunge outfit, and scoured about 5 thrift stores for old Docs. They were surprisingly elusive, even in I settled for these and promptly forgot about them. Just yesterday, I was searching our mud room for an old sweatshirt and I found them, fell in love, and have had them permanently attached to my feet ever since.

As I was headed out the door to take them for a test-drive, my sister looked me up and down and said acidly "Nice Amish boots", which I chose to take as a compliment...and the name stuck.

I'm wearing the bowling tonight with my boyfriend and our friends, and my dad took one look at my American Apparel dress, cardigan, tights, and cherished boots, and told me I looked preposterous, that I should change, that he didn't understand why I was wearing such a ridiculous ensemble for such a casual night out. I told him I was sorry he felt that way. That's the problem, you see...he simply doesn't understand. And for a minute, he succeeded in bringing back all my old insecurities, memories of middle-school timidity and self-loathing and fear of not being accepted that I still have not completely rid myself of - and I was on the point of changing into jeans and a sweatshirt and boringness.
But then I realized that this is me, whether dad likes it or not, and I can't risk losing the person I've only just started to appreciate.
So I'm keeping my Amish boots.

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