Doc Marten Christmas

Remember when Doc Martens where the rage? Oh those yellow thread trimmed shoes were meant to be mine. I didn’t care what the color, but they had to have the yellow threads. The price tag, unfortunately, wasn’t meant for me.  But I still longed for a pair in my closet.  As most teenage girls do I began asking, then begging, then pleading and threatening suicide.  Still no Doc Martens magically appeared from my “horrible” parents.  Seriously can you believe how unfair they were!

One wonderful Christmas; Jessica and I had identical shaped boxes, beautifully wrapped and sitting beneath the tree begging to be opened.  My parents were giddy with excitement and handed us our gifts to open at the same time.  I was excited and glanced at my parents who were sitting shoulder to shoulder their hands clasped in a loving embrace.  Their eyes were tired, but their faces were glowing in the joy of Christmas giving.

Jessica and I eagerly tore open our gifts. We see apple boxes that had been written on with a black sharpie  exclaiming “Doc Martens”. I am not sure what Jessica’s face was reflecting at this moment but I was pissed!  They were totally making fun of us! I open my box and a pair of black men’s dress shoes sits inside.  My dad is looking proud and please as punch and my mom is gently wiping the tears off her cheeks.  Then I started yelling “Is this a joke?! Why did you give me Randy’s dress shoes? Or are these Jared’s? Why? You guys are like sooo mean!” My moms hand stops wiping mid tear drip, oh those tears of making her girls dreams come true. My dads face is contorted in a weird pained shape, “Sharee those are Doc Martens! I bought those for you guys at the Nordstrom Rack, they cost $100!” My dad tells me in his most appalled voice. I look at them again, yes they clearly state in the inner sole that they are Doc Martens. But, they still are men’s dress shoes, of this I am sure! And they don’t even have the “Doc Marten” yellow threads around the bottom. “Dad they are men’s shoes! Seriously, mens!! Mens!” I still can’t help but think it’s a joke.  “No Sharee I asked and they said they are girls, from the girl section.”  My dad replies looking crushed. So this is for real, he thinks he has done a good thing.  I cannot remember what Jessica has said during this entire exchange, but she has probably tossed hers back into the box and forgotten them. 

I try and work up a bit of enthusiasm.  Maybe I could like them?  Maybe? I am starting to feel the overwhelming feeling of sorrow.  Sorrow of hurting my Dads feelings.  Sorrow that he wasted money on men’s shoes instead of buying the real ones I always had wanted. So I smile and try and act not so bratty.  I even wear them from time to time.

 Until one time my high school boyfriend asks me why I wear men’s dress shoes.  I told him why and that I worn them out of guilt for the last 2 years.  But after that day I never wore them again.

It was really my Dads fault.