Comparison is the thief of joy! There’s no truer a sentence than that one right there. I know this. I practice loads of gratitude and always try to talk myself around and give myself a little face slap if I find myself trying to size up something someone else has that I don’t. 

But, I’m human and the above philosophy, while strong in theory, doesn’t always work.

So this week the evil green eyed monster punched me fair in the guts with no warning. Limited sleep at night had left me weak, perhaps? Scout and I spent our Saturday night hanging out with the very lovely staff at our local emergency room with an adverse reaction to a suspected spider bite, and although discharged to head home later that night, not much sleep was had that night or the following two. 

So let me paint the picture for you. Firstly, you need to know something. It’s a little known fact (not now) that when I’m extremely tired, I sleep with my left eye open, which is creepy for my hubby! My left eye was a little bloodshot (meaning I was just beyond the really tired point but somewhere before the I’m so tired I may accidentally murder someone point) and I was feeling that dried up, give me a hot shot of Belgian chocolate kinda tired, when I wandered aimlessly into a shoe shop and picked up some nice boots. Being a girl, I am somewhat obsessed with nice shoes. Especially boots. Love boots. So in my hand I have two pairs of different knee-high boots and I squint at the shop assistant with my good eye looking something like Quasimodo. I ask her for the size bigger than my usual foot size as I find it helps fit my larger than average (how rude) calves. 

The lovely unsuspecting shop assistant brings out both pairs to me, thank you! But she also gives another two pairs of the same boots to the lady sitting next to me. I gingerly take off my old smelly runner and reveal my left foot in a little white sports sock. I kinda smile while looking at what socks the girl next to me is wearing. They’re all like pale pink and blue striped and neat just like the cool sneakers she took off to try on the boots. Meanwhile, I take off my right runner and a whole pile of sand plus three sultanas fall onto the ground below me. And while trying to kick the pile under the chair before anyone calls security on the potential homeless woman trying to steal shoes (that’s what I felt I must have looked like to them at that point) I realise I’m wearing a black sock with a hole on my right foot – somehow I had mismatched a pair of socks – so what! To make things like way worse, the young girl/ lady/ evil person lets out a hushed giggle. You know the kind when you think something is really, really funny but you know you shouldn’t laugh but you just can’t help it. I chime in. I laugh real loud and look at her as if to say, whoopsie! But she spots my red crusty tired eye and gives me a very uncomfortable look before she moves just an inch further away from me. Ok fine Chezzi, just try the boots on now and get outta here… I realise I’ve just said this out loud and the girl laughs again. Uncomfortably. Geez, Chezzi you’re having a true Chezzi shocker today, I think to myself. I think I said that in my head and my eyes dart around to see if anyone is looking at me just to make sure. Nope. Phew! Damn. I said that one out loud. Gah! 

I pull the first boot over my ankle and try to pull it up over my calf without looking like I’m struggling. Success! But then we hit a snag. Well we hit my knees. My very rounded knees. My inward clicking knees that were pounded and thrashed during my basketball obsessed youth. I was told to always strap my knees but I was young and thought I was invincible. I could barely remember to brush all the teeth in my mouth not just the very front ones, so how could I possibly be made responsible for putting double tape on both knees every day? Huh? Well now twenty something years on and I feel like seriously kicking my younger self in the butt for not taping because I have very chunky fluidy knees as a result! And these knees are making my boot trying experience today incredibly embarrassing. I’m heaving and quietly puffing and ripping my fingerprints off my fingertips as I try to stuff my knees into the “stretchy” leather. The shop assistant asks me if I’m ok and I almost yell at her as I try even harder to look like I’ve got it under control. “I’M FINE THANK YOU” I bellow at her. Yes! It’s on. They’re both on. I try to stand as best I can without any use of my knees which are having the circulation cut from them with every beat of my heart. I try to casually walk over to the mirror like a stiff zombie dragging each dead straight leg behind me. Red faced. I catch a glimpse in the mirror, my eye looks dreadful and I look down and see a lovely billowing of skin coming out the top of the boot that looks ridiculous but I pretend to actually consider these boots for some reason. Trying to twist at the mirror. 

And then the girl who had been sitting next to me stands up to look in the mirror. Her svelte knees allowing the leather of the boots she has on (the very same ones I’m jam packed into) to fall gracefully. I’m in such awe of how great her legs look, how striking the boots look, that I forget she needs me to move for her to look in the mirror. What can I say? That bi-atch had great knees. I wanted her knees. I wished my knees fit so easily into boots. I wish I had her knees. Seriously I hate you! No, seriously! Clearly, this is where the saying “the b’s knees came from hey? The bi-atch’s knees!” I can laugh now about this, but it took me a good day or so plus some good sleep to realise how ridiculous I was being. Everyone has different traits, everyone has different body shapes, and everyone is unique. I truly believe this and although I don’t have the bee’s knees or a clear white left eye some days, I always try to look at what I do have… What I am proud of. My knees may be chunky and puffy and somewhat marshmallow looking at times, but they’re strong! They allowed me to play basketball hard for years. They helped me stand real still for hours while playing a tree on stage during a high school performance. They helped me do some really awesome (probably daggy now I think about it) dance moves on the dance floor. They held up the rest of my body for hours while very reluctantly kneeling at Church at School each week. Two little stick thin twigs would struggle to achieve all that hey?  Plus, when I’m rich I’m going to make really cool designer boots for real girls with bigger calves and fluid filled knees! And maybe I’ll call my boot brand B‘s Knees because of this very fable!