I had a pair of bitchin’ moon boots back when I was young. I don’t want to date myself but for the infants they are like slouchy boots minus twenty plus years. Back then I already had a healthy self-esteem but in those boots I thought I was the shit. Coming to school that day I was all swagger with my beaded braids swinging, shoulders thrown back and an attitude that already screamed F*%# You, even though I was too young to swear. I was fierce and gangster. I was unaware, but already I had a kiss my ass mentality forming inside. I started down the school playground and treated it like a runway. I began with a sedate walk but as I neared my friends I could have sworn I heard the beat of Billy Jean playing in my ear. With every step I took the concrete path lit up just for me. Michael’s glimmer socks and loafers couldn’t touch me. I had on my moon boots and I was on fire. I expected my friends to love the look, congratulate me on my style and ask me to be their pre-pubescent stylist. Instead I got dirty looks, hate and whispers. Huh. What the hell! Come again? I didn’t understand what everyone was so mad about. It didn’t matter. I never wore my moon boots again. Today, I wish I could pull that little girl aside and warn her not kill her fabulousness on the playground. It would take decades to rebuild. I missed my chance. I’ll do it now.
Remember this: “If you’re remarkable, it’s likely that someone won’t like you. That’s part of being remarkable. Nobody gets unanimous praise. The best the timid can hope for is to be unnoticed. Criticism comes to those who stand out(Seth Godin).”
Folks are going to hate you anyway so you might as well give them their money’s worth. I’m digging in my closet for my boots as I speak. I have to push past Prince’s silk ruffled shirt and high heels, Gaga’s meat dress and Michael’s glitter glove. Ah, there they are – my moon boots. Long time no see, love. It’s time for a wear.
What have you hidden away that you plan to dust off and rock this year?