These boots...

...are made for walking,
and that's all they're good for.
One of these days these boots...

Dare I finish?

It's bad enough resorting to a down-filled parka (masking all the curves I work so hard to retain), cramming a hat down over my ears (thus matting down my baby-thin hair), and wrapping a wool scarf around my neck and chin (which, once doffed, sends my matted-down hair springing in all directions, thanks to the wonders of static electricity). But the boots, come on...the boots can be fun, no?

I have my long black boots, guaranteed to draw the male eye (ask anyone), but useless in minus 20-odd degrees Celsius. And I also have my trusty ankle-high RootsTuff boots, good for slippery slopes but not much use for protecting dryclean-only trousers. And now I have my Cougar boots, which I picked up at a Boxing Week sale. I figured I'd be able to walk without falling — I've wiped out twice this winter, once in a pair of pumas and not long afterwards in said gorgeous boots above — and also save on the weekly drycleaning bill.

Sadly, all I've managed to do is pummel my self-esteem. When I look down I see not slender, delicate feet but the wide, splayed feet of a duck. When I catch my reflection in a store window, I cringe. Is that me with the big butchy boots and the trouser legs bunched up at the knees? Yes, indeed-y.

At lunch I typically climb down from the exalted heights of the university and walk to the centre of Montreal. For those of you who don't know Montreal, it boasts an underground city second to none. Tourists love it and so do the natives. For instance, if you work downtown, you can walk just about anywhere without braving sub-zero temperatures, from numerous tall office buildings/skyscrapers to restaurants, shops — you name it. Monday I walked to my husband's office, bundled up as usual, and from there we had lunch and shopped, all without him having to don a single outerwear garment. I, however, well...you can guess. (Thankfully, he's completely infatuated still.)

Next week I join the ranks of the downtown office workers. Hallelujah.

When's the last time you remember reading a romance featuring a waddling, down-laden heroine? See, you get the picture.

Are you ready boots? Start walkin' ...all the way to the dustbin!