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joflasherPicture me up in the wilds of New Hampster,er, Hampshire at the (in)famous State Line tack store. I've already spent over an hour digging through their bargain bins finding a pair of proper baby shit green breeches, a scratchy wool coat and a prim white shirt starched to the texture of canvas board. I have tied a dozen rat catcher collars around my neck by this point and the oxygen deprivation is starting to affect my vision. I'm tired, hot, and I haven't eaten for almost 6 hours. My partner in crime, Kimberly, is valiantly trying to push me on. We only have one more thing to get, just one, then we can go find lunch. Yep, we have to find the boots.
True to form, I hit the piles and piles of returns and 2nds first. I mean, why pay more than I have to for my torture? Keep in mind, putting on tall boots involves one wooden boot wedger thingy that you lock the heel into and stand on and two meat hooks that go into specially made loops inside the boots to give you more "pull". Its truely a full body workout. Hey, maybe I should market that...anyways, most of these boots don't go on. Most of them stop halfway up my calves and I wisely admit defeat. A couple of the brands come in slim, medium and wide calve widths. One even has an extra wide that was entirely too big. I am encouraged. I seek more boots of this brand. Their wides seem to fit, more or less. I start hunting for a boot size that fits now. My normal 7.5 is too big. The 6.5 is way to small. Ah, there's a 7. It fits, it fits. Yay. What's this? Shit, its synthetic leather. Were the others? Nope, they were real. Hmmmm...okay, the company makes two versions of the same boot, one synthetic, one real. Synthetic is about half the cost. Now the boot doesn't really fit, not like most people mean "fit" anyways. It goes on but I can feel the blood pounding in my legs after standing in them 10 minutes and the tops are cutting into the backs of my knees. I need a version of them that will stretch. I need a pair that the ankles will soften in and allow the boot to slouch a little. I need something that is going to mold itself to my body if I apply enough time, agony and conditioner to it. Synthetic, not happening. Okay, the quest to find brand X in size 7 wide begins. Another hour of Kimberly and I shifting through the bargain boots. No 7 wides in leather. Shit, guess I'll have to go upstairs and look at the full price ones.
Now the bargain bins are in the basement of this tack shop. The full price boots are on the second floor. Its about 75 degrees out and the tack store is a refurbished 4 story barn. No air conditioning, at least none turned on. Up we trundle, carring our spoils from the previous battles. The 2nd floor is close 90. We start hunting through the racks for brand X, 7 wides in leather. We find one. Hurray. I tug and strain and get them on. They seem fit as well as the synthetics did, maybe a little tighter. Double hurray, we're done. I lock the heel into the the boot lock and tug. Ummm, its not coming off. I tug a bit harder. I get maybe an inch. I give up on that leg and stick the other boot into the lock. It slides off after 3 tremendous heaves. One leg is about 3/4 of an inch smaller in diameter than the other, buying boots always involves catering to the bigger leg and right now, the bigger leg is not a happy camper. The boot won't come off.
Now I had worn short socks and slacks that were loose enough to pull above my knees to make trying on boots easier. I tried on almost a dozen boots in the basement with no more problems than normal for this type of footwear. The basement was only about 60 degrees, though. I hadn't thought about what happens when sweaty skin forms an airtight bond with hardened leather. I should have. I really should have.
About this time, a sales lady comes in and notices my plight. She's seen it before. Easily a hundred times, she tells me. Happens to everyone, since no one comes to State Line for new full price clothes. They all come for the bargain basement and only come upstairs when they can't find what they want on sale. She runs and gets me two glasses of icey water. That helps. She then inserts the meat hooks down the sides of my legs to try and break the suckion. Doesn't work. She goes off for more water, hoping that if we can get my body temp down, the boots will let go. I try the meat hooks again. By this time, my leg is dead tired. I've already pulled something trying to force my leg out of that boot. Then, in a fit of inspiration, Kimberly asked if my foot was up in the shaft part of the boot yet. It is and my ankle is not at all happy about held straight up and down for this long. Kimberly then grabbed the foot of the boot and *twisted*. *POP*, off it came. YAY, Kimberly is my hero. I will worship the wisdom of Kimberly...after I get up off of the floor where I'm rolling in pain due to all of the blood returning to my leg and foot. Luckily, gangrene hasn't set in yet.
The sales lady comes back, I guzzel down the water. She gives me a pair of riding breeches to put on and says "as long as its not bare skin, you'll be fine". Okay, good thing to know. I put on the pants and come back. The sales lady has lined up about 5 pairs of boots for me to try. Obviously she works on a commission, since all of them are more expensive than the pair I was stuck in. She also has plastic to wrap around my legs to "make them slide on and off easier". Um, yeah. I tell her I don't have much strength left in my legs after fighting for almost 45 minutes to get that boot off. She reassures me. I gamely try them on. No, I don't get stuck again. If this was a ficticious tale, I would have but that's not what happened at all. Nope, I ended up buying the pair I was stuck in. Yep, that's right, I bought them. With breeches on, they slid off as easily as I could expect. Still a lot of effort but not herculean. Hey, they fit the best in both calf and foot. All the others that fit up top had my foot swimming in them. Sales lady was not amused. Says I should buy the pair that cost $350, even though the whole boot slid down my leg when I picked up my feet. Hey, my calves aren't THAT big. Obviously, the sales lady is only useful for carrying water. I decide to ignore the sales lady unless she's carrying a glass.
Okay, check list time. Boots? check. Scratchy jacket? Check. Prim white shirt w/ noose-like rat catcher collar? Check! Baby shit green breeches? Check! Oops, forgot my own boot wedgier and meat hooks. Okay, got'em. Check. Yay, we're done, we're done, we're done. Once I cough up $300 + dollars, I'll have my riding apparel. I am relieved. I am almost at peace...
until the sales lady makes a remark along the lines of "my, you got a lot accomplished today!" Something in me snaps. I give her the "where's the big red button so I can remove you from this earth" look. Accomplished? Accomplished!!! I'm supposed to feel accomplished after all that? I feel like I've been rolled over by a pavement press. I feel like I went on a 2 day hike with only a shot glass full of water to drink. My right leg is brush burned from knee to ankle, I have a rash starting on my neck from one of the jackets and I still haven't recovered from the rat catchers choking me. Shit, why don't I feel accomplished? I don't know, why don't most people feel accomplished after being anally assaulted? Just human nature, I guess. On the upside, the oxygen deprivation has made her face an interesting mixture of green and purple splotches. Or maybe my vision is fine and I said the anal rape thing out loud. I don't know and, at this point, I don't care. I just bend over and get it done with and get out of there.
I am never doing that again. Never. Nope. Not happening.
On the upside, even I'll admit that I looked pretty damn spiffy in my new get up on Sunday. I spent about 5 hours on horseback in those new boots, looking spiffy and having advil passed up to me. The show was a bust but the pictures will be nice. Carol walked right past me a dozen times WHILE I WAS ON HER HORSE and didn't recognize me. Of course, she'd never seen her horse all braided and shined up either. The last show, we went all natural. This time, I figured if I have to be in pain and bound, prodded and poked into "proper show attire", then Tisa does too. Muhahaha, braids for you AND you're getting your legs and face clipped. Misery loves company. I have blisters all over both feet, the inside of my left knee is one huge bruise where the boot rubbed, and my legs gave out on me when I first stood up this morning but I looked good. And that almost made it worth. Or at least yesterday, it did.
I never thought I'd be one of those "live fast, die young, leave a beautiful corpse" people. You think? Nah! Time to find a ball bat and go beat those boots until they supple up a little around the feet.
True to form, I hit the piles and piles of returns and 2nds first. I mean, why pay more than I have to for my torture? Keep in mind, putting on tall boots involves one wooden boot wedger thingy that you lock the heel into and stand on and two meat hooks that go into specially made loops inside the boots to give you more "pull". Its truely a full body workout. Hey, maybe I should market that...anyways, most of these boots don't go on. Most of them stop halfway up my calves and I wisely admit defeat. A couple of the brands come in slim, medium and wide calve widths. One even has an extra wide that was entirely too big. I am encouraged. I seek more boots of this brand. Their wides seem to fit, more or less. I start hunting for a boot size that fits now. My normal 7.5 is too big. The 6.5 is way to small. Ah, there's a 7. It fits, it fits. Yay. What's this? Shit, its synthetic leather. Were the others? Nope, they were real. Hmmmm...okay, the company makes two versions of the same boot, one synthetic, one real. Synthetic is about half the cost. Now the boot doesn't really fit, not like most people mean "fit" anyways. It goes on but I can feel the blood pounding in my legs after standing in them 10 minutes and the tops are cutting into the backs of my knees. I need a version of them that will stretch. I need a pair that the ankles will soften in and allow the boot to slouch a little. I need something that is going to mold itself to my body if I apply enough time, agony and conditioner to it. Synthetic, not happening. Okay, the quest to find brand X in size 7 wide begins. Another hour of Kimberly and I shifting through the bargain boots. No 7 wides in leather. Shit, guess I'll have to go upstairs and look at the full price ones.
Now the bargain bins are in the basement of this tack shop. The full price boots are on the second floor. Its about 75 degrees out and the tack store is a refurbished 4 story barn. No air conditioning, at least none turned on. Up we trundle, carring our spoils from the previous battles. The 2nd floor is close 90. We start hunting through the racks for brand X, 7 wides in leather. We find one. Hurray. I tug and strain and get them on. They seem fit as well as the synthetics did, maybe a little tighter. Double hurray, we're done. I lock the heel into the the boot lock and tug. Ummm, its not coming off. I tug a bit harder. I get maybe an inch. I give up on that leg and stick the other boot into the lock. It slides off after 3 tremendous heaves. One leg is about 3/4 of an inch smaller in diameter than the other, buying boots always involves catering to the bigger leg and right now, the bigger leg is not a happy camper. The boot won't come off.
Now I had worn short socks and slacks that were loose enough to pull above my knees to make trying on boots easier. I tried on almost a dozen boots in the basement with no more problems than normal for this type of footwear. The basement was only about 60 degrees, though. I hadn't thought about what happens when sweaty skin forms an airtight bond with hardened leather. I should have. I really should have.
About this time, a sales lady comes in and notices my plight. She's seen it before. Easily a hundred times, she tells me. Happens to everyone, since no one comes to State Line for new full price clothes. They all come for the bargain basement and only come upstairs when they can't find what they want on sale. She runs and gets me two glasses of icey water. That helps. She then inserts the meat hooks down the sides of my legs to try and break the suckion. Doesn't work. She goes off for more water, hoping that if we can get my body temp down, the boots will let go. I try the meat hooks again. By this time, my leg is dead tired. I've already pulled something trying to force my leg out of that boot. Then, in a fit of inspiration, Kimberly asked if my foot was up in the shaft part of the boot yet. It is and my ankle is not at all happy about held straight up and down for this long. Kimberly then grabbed the foot of the boot and *twisted*. *POP*, off it came. YAY, Kimberly is my hero. I will worship the wisdom of Kimberly...after I get up off of the floor where I'm rolling in pain due to all of the blood returning to my leg and foot. Luckily, gangrene hasn't set in yet.
The sales lady comes back, I guzzel down the water. She gives me a pair of riding breeches to put on and says "as long as its not bare skin, you'll be fine". Okay, good thing to know. I put on the pants and come back. The sales lady has lined up about 5 pairs of boots for me to try. Obviously she works on a commission, since all of them are more expensive than the pair I was stuck in. She also has plastic to wrap around my legs to "make them slide on and off easier". Um, yeah. I tell her I don't have much strength left in my legs after fighting for almost 45 minutes to get that boot off. She reassures me. I gamely try them on. No, I don't get stuck again. If this was a ficticious tale, I would have but that's not what happened at all. Nope, I ended up buying the pair I was stuck in. Yep, that's right, I bought them. With breeches on, they slid off as easily as I could expect. Still a lot of effort but not herculean. Hey, they fit the best in both calf and foot. All the others that fit up top had my foot swimming in them. Sales lady was not amused. Says I should buy the pair that cost $350, even though the whole boot slid down my leg when I picked up my feet. Hey, my calves aren't THAT big. Obviously, the sales lady is only useful for carrying water. I decide to ignore the sales lady unless she's carrying a glass.
Okay, check list time. Boots? check. Scratchy jacket? Check. Prim white shirt w/ noose-like rat catcher collar? Check! Baby shit green breeches? Check! Oops, forgot my own boot wedgier and meat hooks. Okay, got'em. Check. Yay, we're done, we're done, we're done. Once I cough up $300 + dollars, I'll have my riding apparel. I am relieved. I am almost at peace...
until the sales lady makes a remark along the lines of "my, you got a lot accomplished today!" Something in me snaps. I give her the "where's the big red button so I can remove you from this earth" look. Accomplished? Accomplished!!! I'm supposed to feel accomplished after all that? I feel like I've been rolled over by a pavement press. I feel like I went on a 2 day hike with only a shot glass full of water to drink. My right leg is brush burned from knee to ankle, I have a rash starting on my neck from one of the jackets and I still haven't recovered from the rat catchers choking me. Shit, why don't I feel accomplished? I don't know, why don't most people feel accomplished after being anally assaulted? Just human nature, I guess. On the upside, the oxygen deprivation has made her face an interesting mixture of green and purple splotches. Or maybe my vision is fine and I said the anal rape thing out loud. I don't know and, at this point, I don't care. I just bend over and get it done with and get out of there.
I am never doing that again. Never. Nope. Not happening.
On the upside, even I'll admit that I looked pretty damn spiffy in my new get up on Sunday. I spent about 5 hours on horseback in those new boots, looking spiffy and having advil passed up to me. The show was a bust but the pictures will be nice. Carol walked right past me a dozen times WHILE I WAS ON HER HORSE and didn't recognize me. Of course, she'd never seen her horse all braided and shined up either. The last show, we went all natural. This time, I figured if I have to be in pain and bound, prodded and poked into "proper show attire", then Tisa does too. Muhahaha, braids for you AND you're getting your legs and face clipped. Misery loves company. I have blisters all over both feet, the inside of my left knee is one huge bruise where the boot rubbed, and my legs gave out on me when I first stood up this morning but I looked good. And that almost made it worth. Or at least yesterday, it did.
I never thought I'd be one of those "live fast, die young, leave a beautiful corpse" people. You think? Nah! Time to find a ball bat and go beat those boots until they supple up a little around the feet.
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no subject
Date: 2003-06-16 09:06 pm (UTC)Oooh! Oooh! Do we get to vote?
...Congratulations on looking good and even surviving it.
And on finding boots. :-)
Should you scan in a picture or several, can we see 'em?