Wonder Woman Boots 2


Wonder Woman Boots?

Wonder Woman Boots?

Ladies, that’s not what you woke up thinking about this morning, right? But you should. Let’s start from the beginning of the story, shall we?

First and foremost, apologies for my silence. Our colour revolution hit a serious in crisis in the past year. It was a case of burning the candle at both ends and searching for the third just in case my butt wasn’t on fire yet. It was consuming enough to be myself let alone impersonate other secret agents. I guess I was aiming for Wonder Woman but got Wonder Weariness instead.

Travelling for work, volunteering in refugee camps, organising exhibitions, running, photographing, dancing lindyhop, left me with a torn meniscus in two places and a hefty Wonder Weariness. Hmmmm, I quite like Wonder Weariness. Sounds fancier as though I had nothing to do with it.

Anyway, this secret agent couldn’t walk properly, let alone carry camera gear in heels and do the photoshoots. Hell, I couldn’t even wear heels. Wearing the same pair of athletic shoes for months nearly drove me bonkers. Active wear is trendy these days but hello, c’est moi, I’m not trendy. I’m mad about colours. Mad about prints. Or just mad. Whichever. But, I did find a solution for Brighton Festival events. Flat comfy leopard print shoes. And because OCD runs deep, I was covered in leopard print. I will limp, but limp in style.

Bottom line? Thank you for still being here and reading this. Because I have not given you much. Last time I blogged properly was as Lady Gladiator.

For those of you who didn’t know, I love dancing and I dance lindyhop in Brighton. Besides throwing colours, I throw kicks too. But after a lingering knee injury my – travelling, photographing, volunteering in refugee camps, running, dancing – was out of the question for at least six months. In fact, running was out of the question forever. So was tap dancing. Not that I was any good at tap dancing but you know if I stomp my feet hard enough, who knows! Talent has its weird ways of coming out of strange places.

Where was I?? – Ah, yes… after six months of no improvement the surgeon asked me to think carefully about an operation as it would increase my chances of arthritis by 100% in 15-20 years. I took a moment to think. Actually more like 30 seconds. Let’s do this. If that would bring me back on the dance floor, I don’t care about having arthritis in 15 years. It would mean 15 years of a life lived well. Danced well. It had been months since I’d danced properly and it was contributing to my Wonder Weariness instead of my Wonder Woman ambitions. The dance floor is where I get rid of my freakish frenzy. I rarely think about dying but when I do it’s on the dance floor. It’s not morbid. It is death done well. I just hope I would drop dead on the beat. Shakadoom Boom!

The operation went spectacularly well. Just the morphine was worth the risk. That stuff is goooooooood. I’m not entirely sure why the nurses were laughing as I said goodbye, but my friend’s embarrassment was enough to know I’d said something inappropriate while high. I’m very good at that – sans morphine too.

The highlight, without a doubt, was having to sit on a stool in the bath, utterly failing at something as simple as showering. My sister was so appallingly entertained that she kept taking photos of me struggling. Ugly naked photos. Luckily, my phone got stolen on my first night out post-operation so I don’t have to look at those ugly images ever again. Hurray! If the FBI needs to fight Apple to hack an iPhone, my ugly naked photos should be safe. Or someone is shaking with laughter right now.

As if health issues weren’t enough, my marriage was headed for divorce too. I thought I’d drop that bomb so you understand the scale of my weariness. In the words of Liza Minnelli, IS THAT ALL THERE IS? Grieving over the loss of love is what I had to look forward while recuperating. Woohoo!! I tried to bribe the doctor to give me some morphine to take home but the bastard was very strict. Esther Perel was as good a replacement as one can get.

I spent the summer and the Indian summer doing physiotherapy for the knee, starring at the sea, and compulsively listening to Miles Mosley’s UPRISING – his lyrics a mouthful, but a light at the end of the tunnel for those of us who manage to keep our values intact as we lick disappointments like artisan gelato. So, I kept colouring in and drinking prosecco. A lot of prosecco. When I saw that I was staying inside the lines even after a bottle of prosecco, I knew had a future in colouring in. Watch this space!

Naturally, I put on a bit of weight as I wasn’t doing much cardio. Apparently writing a book doesn’t shed any calories. Luckily, it came on as curves and cleavage. Yup, quite sexy if I may say so myself. Caribbean men seemed to agree rather eagerly. Definitively keepers. The curves, not the men.

Surprisingly, throughout this period, I laughed a lot. Don’t know if it was because colouring in is key to a happy life, or I am ultimately nuts (very very plausible, or because I have the wickedest friends in the block. I couldn’t sell them if I tried. Awww they are truly priceless. (OK, you can have them for £10 million if you can concoct an off-shore tax avoidance scheme like those in Paradise Papers.)

Wonder Woman Boots

Fast forward six months and I am back on the dance floor. Swinging or nothing! When I returned from the Lindy Academy, my first lindyhop festival since the injury, a package from Melbourne was waiting for attention. Before I knew it, I was holding something so perfectly executed, wouldn’t call them boots. Inspired by the 60s sci-fi and packaged with modern urban grit. If you ever looked at shoes and wanted to hug and lick them simultaneously, and then take them to the next provocative event, you understand I’m not a freak. Or am I?

Not quite. I was definitively looking at a pair of spectacular boots. Organic yet firm lines. Graphite lizard embossed leather. There is only so much edge one can get into a flat boot but the creative visionary Johanna of Preston Zly did it. She designed Terraform boots while going though her own Wonder Weariness. Creative women, despite the odds, wonderful busy bees across the globe.

TERRAFORM below are the ultimate Wonder Woman Boots, without a single doubt. Red pointy attitude greeting you from the front like a red carpet. Your time shine hun, they say!

Wonder Woman Boots 2

So, I put the Terraform Wonder Woman Boots on and went to the Brighton Bandstand where I got married six years ago to the man I loved – then.

I stood at the Bandstand, contemplating, like a perpetrator who goes back to the scene of the crime. In retrospect, this is where I could have stopped my heartbreak and all that middle-age-crisis-came-too-early. So let’s count my regrets, shall we?

None. Nought. Nil. Zero. The magic is still there. Because I am still very much in love. Ladies and gents, I am utterly and unapologetically IN LOVE. Massively in love.

With the Woman I am today. I found my Wonder Woman. She is standing in the middle of my life life path, looking back unapologetically and stepping forward with Wonder Woman Boots. She is all I ever wanted to be. That is the Wonder of it all.

Who was your Wonder Woman when you found her? Comment below!

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