UGH! My UGGS!

Today is a day that will go down in my own personal infamy. A dark, hollow, dreadful day. So horrible, I can scarcely speak it, so I'll write it instead. Today, I found a small hole in the toe of my beloved UGGs.
No. No No No No NO NO!! This cannot be. Before proceeding further, let me explain to you about my UGGs. You might be thinking, "They're just boots, right?" and I will forgive you that. Once. Don't repeat those words again in my presence. No, they are not "just boots." "Just boots" don't swaddle your feet in a pillow of lambs wool, keeping your toes toasty all through the winter. "Just boots" don't allow you the sensation of walking on air breathed by Australian angels. "Just boots" don't make you weep with loss when you have to pull them off in the evening to get into bed. You don't miss them like a long lost love when you're forced to don strappy heels and pantyhose on a chilly night. Sure, there are cheaper knock offs, lookalikes, sloppy seconds to the original; Tuggs, Fuggs, Ug-lies. Don't be fooled my friends. A boot may be constructed of suede and fur but that does not mean they are a tiny slice of heaven.

Back to the hole. The HOLE! There are several issues at play here. First and foremost; I spent $150.00 on them, which is both highly out of character and represents what I've spent cumulatively on shoes over the past 10 years. Now perhaps to some, dropping that kind of coin on footwear is not out of the ordinary. But to me these UGGs were a splurge; a pure indulgence. Such a purchase on myself meant I was sacrificing an entire spring wardrobe's budget or a much needed day at the spa. I bought them for unequivocal comfort and was planning on wearing them into the ground. I just thought "the ground" would take 10 to 15 years to hit. I didn't realize UGGs were the shoe version of an expensive German car; high end, trendy, and luxurious, but always in the shop for stupid repairs.

The second issue is that I've only owned my UGGs for a bit over a year, which completely shatters my belief system that expensive boots should be made to endure. True, I wear them every single day from sun up to sun down; October through April. But for the other 6 months they sit untouched in my closet. I take care of them, forgoing their comfort when it rains or snows. I hop muddy puddles, don't venture off the sidewalks, and take them off when I'm cooking dinner (can't anticipate splatter). A hole. A hole from wear, not from an unforeseen accident. It's on the top part of the shoe that never comes in contact with the ground, so I don't quite understand how it could have become so worn. This just cannot be. They were on Oprah's Favorite Things list. Oprah wouldn't stand for a hole in her UGGs! I suppose she never needs to wear a pair until they disintegrate, which apparently occurs in 18 months. Perhaps to the fashion conscious, that's when you need to purchase the newest UGG anyway. This seems to be the year of the crocheted UGG. Of course as cute as they are, they will be on the fashion "don't" list by next November. My motto is "give me comfort or give me Payless." I ain't paying a seasonal premium for trendy tootsies unless they're offering me something more than good looks.

A hole. In my treasured UGGS. The universe is not in alignment. My core is rocked. All I believed is being tested. I thought you got what you paid for. I thought a quality brand meant quality product. I thought if I took care of something (and oh, I baby these UGGs better than my own children) it would last. I loved them. Why didn't they love me back? Now my UGGs have become a giant metaphor for the disappointments of life, love and relationships. I didn't want my UGGs to symbolize all the ways that things can let you down, wear away, or come to pass. I just wanted warm comfy feet in the bitter Jersey winter and a cute pair of tan suede boots that go with everything. Oh, UGGs. My beautiful UGGs. May you rest in peace.