I love my Uggs. There, I said it.
I love you. Ok? And I’m sick over all the years I spent pretending that our love wasn’t true. I’ve tried to get over you, I’ve tried to pretend that I was more stylish than you, I’ve tried to convince myself that my urban lifestyle requires a sophisticated woman’s boot with a treacherous winter heel. But then I see you, peeking out of my closet, beckoning me with your promise of shearling filled unconditional warmth and your soothing sole. Dependable you, who makes me feel like I’m walking on pillows. Funny you, with your right and left shoes so similar that sometimes I laugh quietly to myself when I put the wrong Ugg on the wrong foot. Supportive you, who keeps my feet snug and dry even through the coldest of days, the darkest of nights.
I heard through the grapevine that you’re doing well. That Ugg sales are up, and that there’s a new “lifestyle” push trying to make you a little more chic. I heard that Ernest Hemingway’s great-granddaughter is wearing you in a new ad. That’s wonderful and I’m so happy for you. You deserve all the success in the world and all the love. Other shoes could learn so much from how warm and comfortable you are, how resilient.
People may say that you “are the ugliest shoes in the world,” that you “look like two loaves of bread,” or that you’re “SO eight years ago,” and I’ll admit – I laughed at this needling. I was weak. But those days are done.
Never again will I mock you just to fit in, or deny all the wonderful moments we’ve shared. The nights-in paired with PJs and a robe, the early morning walks around the neighborhood, the cool southern evenings matched with a short skirt and an oversized hoodie, the trips to the grocery store, the laundry mat, the neighborhood coffee shop. So many steps taken together. So many memories. There’s really only so long one can deny a bond so true.
But I’m here to finally tell you (and the world) that I’m ready to take our relationship public. I’m ready to let my friends, my family, people I admire and respect and wish to emulate, know that I love you. I’m ready to tell them that you mean everything to my feet and that when I wear you I’m not wearing you ironically, (like I’ve said I was,) or because I just threw you on (also, like I’ve said I did) I’m wearing you because I made a choice to, because I want to, and maybe even because I need to.
It’s been a journey of vanity and self-acceptance and coming to terms with what truly makes me happy. That’s you, Uggs. You make me happy and I’m sick of pretending you don’t.