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Boot Scootin’ Dummy

Boot Scootin’ Dummy

Yall. SIGH. Listen. I’m going to share my dumbassery with you, because the boys and I still haven’t stopped laughing about it, and I know you need a smile today.

So, I ordered some new boots from Amazon. They’re like a combination of combat/grunge kind of boots with a touch on western-worn brown instead of black. They were perfect and exactly what I was looking for.

Now, I normally wear a 9, but I always size up for boots because thick winter socks and whatnot, and boots don’t generally come in half sizes, so I usually order a 10.

I did that. I made sure to do that. I passed over a LOT of options I wanted, simply because when I selected “size 10” they were out of stock. I’m harping on this to let you know that I have thick feet and fat ankles and I detest returning things, so I always make for double damn sure I get the right size.

SO ANYWAY. I ordered these boots. And they came in today, and I squealed like a little girl who was gifted a pony. MAH BOOTS ARE HERE! WOOOOOO!

I pull them out of the box and remove all the stuffing, oohing and ahhing about how perfect they are and how they look just like the ad, and inspecting them to make sure no seams are frayed and the soles aren’t loose. I unzip them and begin to stuff my right foot in.

Houston, we have a problem.

These sumbees are TIGHT. I mean TIGHT. I wiggle and push and put my foot down on the floor and stand up in it to shove it on down in there. Whew! It finally slides in. Damn, that was rough, and I don’t even have socks on. It may take a while to break these bad boys in! But we’re not done.

No, now we have to zip them up.

Now, I don’t know if you’ve ever seen a big girl wrestle with zipping up boots, but if not, let me just tell you, it’s a sight. I was pulling and pinching sides of the boot together and poking skin back in where it tried to pop out, like dough out the side of a partially popped biscuit can.

I finally got it. And these dudes are TIGHT. I mean, this cannot POSSIBLY be a size 10. No way. No. Damn. How.

I start angrily ranting all the swear words that I won’t be able to write down in the positively SCATHING review that I’m about to give these damn shoes on Amazon. I stomp off down the hall to make sure the heels aren’t too high and to see if they pinch too much for me to be able to wear them at all, with or without socks. I go stand in front of the only big mirror we have to see how they look.

They look good, people. They look exactly how I wanted.

But they HURT. Is it worth it?

And then, I glance down again, and notice that the laces are uneven on one side. It’s longer on one foot than the other, and we can’t have that. So I sit down to mess with it.

That’s when I notice that the laces on my lace-up boots are not there purely for show.

They’re actual laces.

That also unlace.


So I just untied the dang things and pulled some slack in the laces and now we’re in business and I feel like such a dumbass right now, I can’t even tell you.


A day in the life, I tell you.

Hopefully, your day is much less frustrating!

MyLove Barnett
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Hailing from the backwoods of north Mississippi, MyLove Barnett spent a decade tripping up the corporate ladder as an accountant before trading in her stilettos and pencil skirts for jeans and flip flops and the privilege of working for various platforms as a writer, editor, and content manager. Although she has an MBA and a BS in accounting, she's found her passion falls more in the creative arts of writing and graphic design. She lives, writes, and raises hell on the outskirts of Tupelo in the small community of Nettleton.


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