Friday, August 2, 2013

I'm taking off my combat boots. BY Lisa Frazeur

I have spent the last couple of weeks in La-La Land with visions of ballerina circus performers dancing around in brightly colored, whimsical slippers wrapped in glitter-drenched ribbons.  Because I want to start having some fun in my life.  Before I kill myself.  La-La Land can be a very safe place - if you don't look back.  I always look back.  Then, I see myself in a fresh light - and it's usually not very pretty.

I'm far from fitting into a pair of ballet slippers.  I've been trudging around in combat boots for 23 years.  I think I put them on for the first time when my husband left the Marine Corps, coincidentally the same time the rest of his squadron was climbing into a transport plane - destination Desert Storm.  The circumstances leading up to his "medical discharge" are, in my most generous words, inconsistent and suspicious - like a mystery soup.  A mystery soup he had been feeding me since I was 17.

So, in 1990, off came his combat boots.  And I put on mine.  I've had them on ever since.  I fought to get out of that marriage.  I fought to keep my kids.  I fought to keep my sanity.  I fought to find true love.  I fought breast cancer.  I fought to keep my job.  I fought, I fought, I fought. 

Now, the war is over and I'm still fighting.  I have to stop.  I've done my time.  I need some R&R!

I'm starting by taking off my combat boots.  Then I am going to nurse my tired, worn-out feet and pamper them until they are soft as a baby's bottom.  Then, who knows, maybe I'll drench my toenails in some glitter.  I don't want new shoes right now.  I want to go barefoot for awhile.

Plan in action.  Photos to follow.  The glitter though?  Probably not so much.



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