Worse - Almost -- Than Trying on Swim Suits by Sharon O'Donnell

I'm a creature of habit. I get used to wearing certain things (jeans, comfortable shoes that aren't particularly stylish, and shirts that you just let hang rather than tuck in). As I've gotten older, I've found that my practical side is winning over my adventurous one in too many aspects of my life. There was a time last month, that my husband and I had planned to meet one of my college friends and her husband at a nightclub to dance to a popular local band. The band didn't start playing until 10:30. By 7:00 that night, I'd lost all desire to go dancing even though I'd been looking forward to it: it was cold outside, I was tired, I'd already scratched my dry eyes and had smeared my mascara that I'd have to reapply. I didn't feel like going. Neither did my husband. So we ended up staying home.

Being a creature of habit sometimes needs some shaking up. I had seen women wearing those long boots over their jeans and even with dresses, and I loved the way they looked. But on me?? I couldn't see it. Yet, this week I found myself in a local store trying on various kinds of boots in an attempt to get out of my comfort zone a bit and try a new look. I tried on five pair of boots, not sure what color I'd want -- black or brown -- or the style. I did know I wanted some heel. I rarely wear anything with heels because 1. I'm already 5 feet 10 and 2. heels make my feet hurt, especially the bunion on my left foot that I'd bought special but clunky shoes for at a shoe specialty store. I reasoned that if I wore the boots, it would not be in one of those situations -- like teaching writing -- in which I'd have to be on my feet a lot. It'd probably be more of a social occasion -- if indeed my husband and I could ever make it out somewhere. And so I wanted heels. Not the tall really skinny kind, but the medium thick heeled ones; I want to change things up again but I am still sane enough to know that those tall skinny heels would be recipe for disaster in more than one way -- think falling down in front of others or aggravating back problems.

But there were some styles of boots I could not even get my foot in! I was too embarrassed to ask a salesperson, so I'd just put those back in the box and move on to another pair. I don't think my foot is shaped quite right or something because it doesn't bend where it should when trying on some of these boots. Then there were those that zipped all the way up the sides. Sure, I could get those on -- no problem -- but getting them zipped back up when I got to my calves was another story. Note to self - ride the exercise bike to lose an inch or two in my legs. Another thing to add to my list of things I needed to do. I felt like one of the women in Cinderella, desperately trying to fit my foot into the beautiful shoes. After I failed to zip them up, I'd glance quickly around to make sure nobody had been watching my failed attempts. Who wears these things anyway??? My experience was oddly similar to my memories of trying on swim suits -- back before I'd settled on one with a skirt and said to heck with it. I hadn't known trying on boots would be this detrimental to my self-esteem. Boots are the new swimsuits. Damn.

I did finally find a pair that fit and was comfortable -- relatively comfortable anyway. And it looked okay but not quite the young women I'd seen looking so fashionable and sexy in their long, tall boots. With my jeans stuffed into the top of the boots, I looked more like my late 1960s heart throb Bobby Sherman when he played the role of Jeremy Bolt on the TV show Here Come the Brides. He was a lumberjack, and I kind of had a lumberjack look. If I put on a plaid shirt and put an ax over my shoulder, it would make a pretty good Halloween costume. I must have stood looking in the mirror at the boots for about 20 minutes, turning this way and that, trying to decide whether or not to spend the money. I liked the brown ones better, but I wear more black, so black would be more practical. Then the sales lady said she bought a pair of brown ones just like those last year, and she loved them. She might have been telling me that just to get me out of the store. I don't know. But it worked. I bought the boots -- the brown ones. At least I could get them on and off, which had become, sadly, my main criterion for selecting boots. When I told the sales person I felt strange in the boots, she assured me that it was only because I had to get used to it if I hadn't worn boots with tucked in pants before. The whole creature of habit thing haunting me again.

The boots are still in the box in my car because I expect I'll wind up taking them back. Even though they were on sale for $49 (usually $100), I don't feel like I'll wear them enough to justify the cost. I wanted boots but not the lumberjack effect. I'd love to hear from you ladies who wear the long boots and the styles you wear them with -- tights with dresses? Dress pants?? I just don't know.

The Bunion Shoes by Sharon O'Donnell

Hey, I know that boots of all lengths and shapes are all the fashion rage right now, and most women seem to have at least two pair, maybe more. So am I an old fuddy-duddy if what I really want in footwear fashion is shoes that won't hurt the bunion on my left foot -- it's just a moderate one as the podiatrist says and surgery is only needed if it really, really bothers me. But 'really bothering someone" is a relative term because what bother one person a lot might not bother another person that much. I decided to put off surgery since the memories of my back surgery in August of 2008 are still fresh in mind, though the scar on my neck has faded. And of course, doctors would not have to go through the front of my neck to get to my bunion as they did to repair my C6-C7 vertebrae (though stranger things have been known to happen, I guess!). My foot problem was caused by years of high arches and being on my feet a lot, especially for the past 10 years when I taught writing classes in schools part-time.

It was after teaching one of these series of classes (3-5 hour long classes in a day and constantly standing and walking through the classroom to be animated) that I drove immediately to the shoe store. It was October, and I hadn't taught all summer, during which time I'd been wearing sandals that never rubbed against the bunion. OMG, by the end of the day of teaching, I could barely walk. On the advice of friends who spend more money on shoes than I usually do, I went straight to a store in the mall that sells European shoes that give much more support to feet than most shoes do. Ahhhh. That was the day that I found -- as I've come to fondly call them --- my bunion shoes. I had no pain the rest of the week, and I've rarely worn anything else since then.

The bunion shoes don't look bad -- kind of like a fashionable clog -- but they definitely aren't the fashionable boots so in vogue right now. I did buy a pair of boots to only be worn in situations when I will not have to wear them for longer than 3 hours and will remain sitting for most of that time. Which pretty much means I can wear my boots to movies -- movies which are so dark nobody can see my boots anyway. Oh well.

As I shopped this Christmas and from time to time encountered women trying on boots, some of them obviously not being successful in finding a comfortable pair, I almost leaned over and said, "Psst, hey you you, forget the boots and buy the bunion shoes." Yet, I refrained. A complete stranger spouting the merits of bunion shoes might come off as just a bit weird.

No, bunion shoes aren't especially sexy and certainly indicate that I'm no spring chicken anymore, but I have no qualms about being honest and open about things like bunions and shoe comfort. I know there are lots of women who can relate who would like to know they don't have to wear the boots and grin and bear the pain. Go for the bunion shoes, ladies. You'll be glad you did.