Footwear defines the woman

I found my old self under my bed. I dug out an old pair of scuffed up cowboy boots that I hadn't worn in years. The heels and souls were worn out, just like I was. I slipped my feet into them to see if they were worth saving. As their scuffed burgundy toes stuck out from beneath my jeans, I was struck by how much I had missed them. And how much I missed the woman who wore them. I know, another cliché point. But I didn't want to be 25 physically again. I just wanted to be the inner person I was. If only I had looked under the bed sooner, maybe the suicide watch could have been called off.

Sometimes, I think we women do that -- throw things under the bed and forget who we were when we wore them.

I always had daring footwear. At 20, I lived in 3-4 inch stiletto heels. Hey, it was the '80s. My leather miniskirt and 3 inch burgundy stilettos with cool cut-outs on the sides. Those shoes danced on a few bar railings in their time. My pink suede cowboy boots my husband finally made me throw away. Okay, maybe the '80s can't explain everything. Caramel colored cowboy boots with beautiful decorative ankle straps.

Then in my late 30's, I threw the boots -- and that person -- under the bed and put on generic sneakers. Flat, comfortable, hardly daring at all. Like the rest of my life. And quiet. Directing theatre, I felt I had to be quiet so I wore quiet shoes. I have since change my mind.

Now, I want to be heard. I want you to know I'm coming. I want crowds ot part when they hear my stomping feet. Whispers amongst strangers, "Who is that woman in those fabulous boots?"