I love my cowboy boots.

I like the way the heels make me lean back on my legs and how this odd posture accentuates how my knees almost hyper-extend.  I don’t know why I like this, but I do.

I like the way the heels (again with the interesting shaped and placed heels) force me to lengthen my stride.  Anyone who has taken a walk with me knows that despite my 5’4″ frame, I have a pretty long stride and fast gait anyway, and I enjoy how wearing the boots highlights that.

I like the way I can just “stick my foot in and pull” to get them on.  They’re not fussy.  I don’t have to lace, buckle, velcro, or zip to get into them, and because they lack accoutrements, I don’t have to worry about them coming undone or snagging on something throughout the day.

I like the way my boots are embellished.  It’s not too much for everyday wear, but I can certainly put them on with a skirt or dress and feel just fine about it.

I like the way I feel when I wear my boots — happier, freer, more in tune with who I’m meant to be.  I suppose there’s a reason I’ve wanted cowboy boots for nearly 30 years.  I can’t for the life of me figure out why I waited so long to get them, though.  No, that’s not true.  I’m sure I thought that I didn’t deserve cowboy boots and that I didn’t need cowboy boots.  At some point I probably cared what other people might think about my wearing cowboy boots, but fortunately my days of fearing other people’s perceptions and allowing that fear to dictate my actions ended long ago.  Maybe I never got cowboy boots before because I was afraid that I just might enjoy wearing them.  I often find the fear of enjoying life and the fear of success to be the most crippling.

As I’m writing this I’m realizing I like my cowboy boots because they highlight things I apparently already like about myself: my legs, my stride, my abhorrence of fussiness, my love of embellishment and ease, my desire to live authentically instead of behind a mask.

And all of these likes add up to love.