Doc Martens: The Odyssey

Call me crazy, but I think I have a telepathic connection with my new Doc Martens.

To explain: I got my beauties in London a couple of weeks ago. They're classic, black leather 14-hole Docs, and have been on my "to get" list for, oh, at least ten years. Quite possibly more. Myself and He Who Shall Not Be Named aka boyfriendface, have been on a mission to find Docs ever since we alighted in the first world, and from what better place than the land that gave the world Rammstein? But alas, Germany's Doc stores were sadly lacking in inspiration for us, so we waited impatiently to get to the next place that we knew would have a wide array of choices, and in useful sizes.

So we ended up in London. We managed to keep up our pretence of being there with no ulterior motives, just visiting friends, rather well. To cut a long story medium, the Big Moment arrived: we had manipulated our friends to take us to a Doc Martens store, and I found the shoes I liked, nay loved, and tried them on with Cinderella-like anticipation. They fitted lengthways and breadthways just fine, but sadly, they dug horribly into the top of my foot. This is due to my high arches which cause a bone to be rather prominent, and I've had to kiss many a pair of shoes goodbye due my weird foot shape. But I resolved to show no pain nor weakness, and just wear the buggers in until the leather softened. So I wore them back home on the plane (big mistake, many ow's), and to walk around the village in (again, excruciating), until the other day I gave up on them for a while, to give my feet a rest and my brain some time to regroup, and consider other options for stretching them. Then, for two nights in a row, I had dreams of them fitting just right and feeling wonderful, and I'd wake up with a tear in my eye and look at them wistfully until deciding to leave the inevitable pain for some other day, when I felt better emotionally capable of handling the bitter disappointment. And then, today, I had a random bit of business to do in the village, not far from the house, so I gritted my teeth and decided to wear them, fully expecting a considerable amount of pain, but at least I'd have tried. I put them on, and... they hurt. But then, all of a sudden, they stopped hurting. I walked faster in them than I've been able to up until now, and barely felt a twinge. This lasted all the way into town, then for the next few minutes of standing around, and by the time I started back, I was composing this post in my head, because I realised that something magical had happened. They had communicated to me in my dreams, trying to tell me that they had finally submitted and accepted that I was boss.

And so, that is my epic tale of love, pain and hope. It goes to show you that things will mould to your will, if 'tis steely enough. I'm looking forward to many happy years with my Docs, who, I'm sure, will remain faithful until the end.