So, I have these boots. I've owned them for years and I love them. I refer to them as my "F me" boots...my footwear when I want to feel sexy...my mama turned harlot apparel.
Last night, in preparation both for a jewelry show and a dry run at clothing options for an upcoming Christmas party, I tried them on. I'd been missing them post the baby and looked forward to their glow with a fun black dress.
You can imagine how I felt, when I couldn't zip them up my leg. Humiliation. Anger. Frustration. Sadness. Vengence.
So, this morning at 5:30, I told the story to my workout companion and she had a fabulous thought...use these boots as your motivation. Whenever you want to hit the snooze button, look at the boot. When you want to eat garbage, look at the boot. When your ego takes over and you think you can half ass a run or lifting, look at the boot. And when you want to feel sexy, look at the boot.
There you have it. My hunch is that 2012 will have me mesmerized with my hottie boots in the hope that they will symbolize my quest to get back to the hottie me.
Because, these boots were made for more than just walkin'.