I haven't worn my precious Dr. Marten boots since the hiking trip I went on with MEChA, since they were so dirty and scuffed. This hiking trip happened in the beginning of July, before the Anime Expo and after June.
+Yes, I went hiking. There were trees, and rocks, and dirt and nature in general. Apparently when they said hiking, they meant hiking. Haha! It wasn't all bad except for you know, the actual hiking, but overall it was entertaining, and will forever remain a fond and happy memory. I still hate that river/stream/moving-body -of-water, however. (We had to cross a stream-like-thing a number of times- I dislike it. It's existence pissed me off.) But I'll post more on that later.+
Back to my boots. So my previously shiny, black leather boots are now caked with dirt and mud and pebbles and they're scuffed everywhere. I couldn't look at them for the week after due to the shame I felt for putting my boots (whom I love as my children) through such hardship. However, I rationalized, that these boots were the best thing to take hiking, seeing that my other shoes consist of two pairs of converse (one cloth, one not), which are slippery as fuck when on a wet surface*, a pair of American Rag shoes, which are basically cloth, cardboard ad a thin strip of rubber, and my now terminally ill Polo shoes, which I was not going to take hiking.
So, when I returned home, tired, sweaty, and still in shock that I hiked (like through dirt and nature and stuff), I took notice of my boots. My poor, poor boots, who were struck over and over by rocks and dirt and submerged in water when I kept falling into the water. At that point, I just mentally cried and buried them under a pile of clothes in my room, saying a brief prayer for them and sacrificing a baby goat in their honor.
Flash-forward to maybe four weeks later. I do not wear my boots, since they have been attacked by nature, and I stumble across them** when searching for a book. I had been ready to leave to go visit a friend of mine (for the first time in weeks!) and I was looking for the book, so I could read it when I came back.
I saw my poor boots, and in a moment of love, I decided to wear them. I shook them a bit, chasing away potential spiders or rocks, and put them on.
Strangely, the dust and irreversible scuff marks gave them a sort of... look. Kind of vintage, but that's not exactly it. It just gave them a sense of personality- and I loved it. I had never been so conscious of my boots existence before whilst walking.
It made them feel like my boots. My boots in which I bought for myself as an eighteenth birthday present.
It was awesome.
*Funny Story. When I was in Seventh grade, I had just gotten a pair of teal blue converse for my birthday. I didn't wear them constantly till March, since it was cold. Then April came, and I wore them- once. That same day, it rained, and the bell had just rung. Those of you who attended public school know that when it rains, the fucking bathroom floors get soaked, for some obscure reason. I ran in there to wash my hands- and I did a motherfucking split. My knee bent and I totally ate it. (Well, not technically, since I didn't fall on my face...)
It was funny.
**Quite literally. I almost fell.
(What does it say, that both those anecdotes are about falling?)
