Almost two years ago, I wrote here about a pair of Betsey Johnson, ruby-red heels I tried on in a DSW store. I thought they were amazing and was publicly debating the practicality of purchasing shoes I might only wear a couple times, if that. The proposition seemed, at best, frivolous and, at worst, appalling given the number of people in this world who have no place warm to sleep tonight. In the end, my logical brain (with its finely honed “who do you think you are/get over yourself, old woman” mantra) decided against those lovely red shoes. I’ve kicked myself a little over that decision every day since then. Not because I’ve had a plethora of occasions when what I needed to complete my grocery-store-trek ensemble was a pair of bedazzled, high-heeled ruby shoes, but because in not buying them I reinforced the message to myself that I don’t deserve to follow my heart or whims or treat myself like I merit being shiny and extra sometimes.

The other day, I did this thing though, which I think provides proof of growth. I hit the purchase-now button and had these rhinestone-encrusted cowboy booties, another Betsey Johnson creation, sent to me. My entire life, I’ve been a fairly conservative dresser. I’ve been big on neutrals and classic, preppy silhouettes in clothing. Mainly because I’m practical and lazy and I know neutrals interchange beautifully, but also because those items allowed me to go unnoticed in most situations. So, you have to know I bought these booties with a specific occasion in mind.

As soon as they arrived at my house, though, the doubts began to creep in. Did I really need these? Was I seriously going to wear them in public? Had I lost my freaking mind? I admired them, tried them on, and told myself quietly, “I’ve just wasted our money.” I took them off, returned the paper wad to the toe and the foam form to the boot shaft, placed them back in their protective sleeves, and positioned them neatly in the box with a firm plan to send them back. Then a curious thing happened. I told myself to think about it and sit with them for a while. So, I left them on my son’s bed in my temporary office, for days. I would walk by them, take one of out of the box, smile at it, then put it right back where I found it. Yesterday morning, though, I did something different. Instead of putting them back, I put them on right over my Smartwool socks. I decided I was going to walk around in them for a bit and see how I felt wearing them around the house. Well, I felt pretty damn good. Never mind that I was wearing fleece-lined leggings and my Buffalo Bills sweatshirt with them. Even with that, I felt rather sassy. So I wore them for a few hours like that and became one with them. And in one last act of utter defiance against my practical mind, I put on Taylor Swift’s “Shake It Off” and danced in them. Yes. I. Did.

The boots are mine now. I gave them an honored space inside the closet. I’m not sure when I will be wearing them, but I will be wearing them, even if it’s just to dance around in my house. You gotta start somewhere. And, lest you think this subtle act of wardrobe rebellion is a one-off, I should probably let you know I also purchased a sequined jacket yesterday. That’s right. I think I’m entering my Extra Shiny Era. It appears I am finished being a wallflower. You’d best get out of my way. Next time this Colorado gal needs to kick someone who is throwing shade her shiny-ass way, she’s gonna be doing it with bejeweled, pointy-toed hardware, and that’ll leave a mark.

“You’ve always had the power, my dear. You just had to learn it for yourself.” ~Glinda, the Good Witch, The Wizard of Oz