I was nineteen when I bought my first pair.
I just could not resist.
They were so shiny, pretty...and pink.
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Me and my 'gummies' were inseparable.
Indestructible.
Puddles became my bit*h.
Mud became my home-skillet.
And then they ripped.
Oh woe is me! I should have guessed considering I paid a mere $30 for them from K-Mart. But I was a student! I just did not have the dosh to get the good stuff. I do not even want to get into the denial which surfaced when I pulled my foot out one rainy, afternoon and it was drenched. Surely it has simply rained inside my gum-boot today? It was a pretty bad storm, the chances were...high?
It is never easy to say goodbye.
Footprints were not only left in the mud, but on my heart.
A year went past.
Gumboot'less.
Then came Christmas of 2011.
Once again, wish-lists were written (well actually, Amazon wish-lists were complied and e-mailed. Ew.) and there was me, skimming the Hunter Wellington Boot website, reminiscing on the pair of pink loveliness what once was mine. Could anything replace the hole which had been left in my heart (or in my gumboots for that matter)? I mean, don't get me wrong, I thought about buying a new pair. Maybe jazzing it up with a pattern or two but the timing was just never right.
When the earthquake of 2011 hit Christchurch and volunteers were called, I even skimmed out and bought myself a pair of $10 black gumboots. Ew.
Anywho, Christmas knocked on the door and a big, black box was wrapped up all nice and pretty for me. Oh boy, I knew what this was...
You guessed it.
A red pair of gumboots.
Red?
Okay, before you start blaming my parents (or 'Santa') for misjudging me so wrongly I should admit something.
This year I would be turning twenty-one. What sane, 'take me seriously please' twenty-one year old traipsed around in pink gumboots? It was time to bid adieu to the childish antics of my youth and move onto something more serious - red gumboot kind of serious.
Something just was not right though. I didn't even take them out of the box. They just sat in my room for multiple weeks, exposed to flinches and all as I glanced at them every so often.
'You need to have the right colour, Christine' says Mumma J
'Yeah, I know. I think I prefer the Cranberry over the Poppy Red' says Christine
Who was she kidding?
She didn't want the Cranberry. She wanted the PINK.
Of course she wanted the pink!
Why wouldn't she want the pink?!
So she bought the pink.
'What do you think?' she asks the family.
'Well, they are very you!' they reply.
(I am going to stop talking about myself in third-person now, it's weird)
And the moral of this story?
Fu*k growing up.
When it rains, go jump in a bloody puddle.
