Like Fleetwood Mac sans love triangle, I have always prided myself on going my own way.
And while this did not work to my advantage in middle or high school – as evidenced by my self-choreographed solo to The Bobs singing The Beatles in the dance team spring show – my Shock-and-Awe Campaign is finally paying off.
As an adult, being different is valued. Or at least not openly ridiculed.
Breaking into song, dance or accent is “creative.” Writing is “artistic.”
In fact, going the opposite direction of the herd is what I enjoy doing most and I can’t wait to teach my son the fine art of being true to himself.
But the unspeakable has happened.
Something so disturbing, so embarrassing, that I have to cuff myself, head to the local precinct of judgement, and confess.
I BOUGHT A PAIR OF UGGS.
And not only that.
I OWN A VELOUR TRACK SUIT.
In my defense, the Uggs are as soft as a new born Beiber. They are like slipping on a pair of clouds and walking around heaven. They are warm and snuggly and make my legs feel thinner than they are.
As for the track suit, there’s really no excuse except for the fact that I place a premium on an expandable waistline.
When I secretly, apologetically, tried the Uggs on at the department store, my first thought was: what the hell took me so long?
My second thought: HOLY SHIT. THE MASSES WERE RIGHT.
And if the masses were right about the Uggs, what else are they right about? Facebook? Exfoliating? Taylor Swift?
NO! My whole world is shifting, I feel dizzy with deception. I mean, how can conformity be wrong when my feet feel so right?
Wait a second.
I think I can spin this in my favor.
I will wear the Uggs as a supreme gesture of counter-ridicule. They will be a joke on US Weekly trends. Ha! I laugh at you stupid Ugg-wearers! These things on my feet are merely a symbol of what lemmings you are!
Okay, I’m breathing easier now. The panic has subsided. All will be well. I will continue to forge ahead on my independent-minded path – a path made so much more comfortable with the right shoes.
But rest assured: you will never find me pairing the Uggs and the track suit together on a first-class flight to London.
I mean, what would the paparazzi say?