The Brown Boots

I was the only one at the wedding wearing brown boots. Every other guy there wore shiny black shoes. My own pair sat contently at home in the darkness of a closet. It wasn't until I scrounged through my bag and came up with nothing resembling my shoes that I realized they were missing.

"No one will be looking at feet," I told myself as I tied the bootlaces.

"Except me, of course," I replied.

I've never been aware of so many people's feet before in my life. It was truly an unhealthy preoccupation. I was looking for some sort of reassurance that I wasn't the only guy with non-black footwear. Yet, through the miracle of complete conformity, every single boy and man wore black shoes.

It shouldn't have bothered me, really, but I was so afraid of standing out that whenever I caught a glimpse of my boots, a wave of anxiety would wash over me. What would people think? I must not own a nice pair of shoes. Or I must not know how to dress. Or I must be the bane of human existence. It's frustrating how negative my thoughts can turn when overcome with insecurity.

At some point, just before the ceremony, having confirmed that my brown boots were indeed unique to the gathering, I told myself to stop the madness. "There's nothing you can do about it now. Get over the boots and pay attention to more important things like, say, the bride and groom." And that was that. From then on, I was able to enjoy the ceremony and the reception that followed.

I'm writing this as a reminder of how silly I am sometimes. It's not cool or desirable to get worked up over such petty matters. Yet, it's so easy to do, especially when anxieties are allowed to run out of control. Will I feel self-conscious if I'm ever caught in a similar situation? Most likely, but I hope I'm able to quell the fears more quickly next time.

Or at least find one other guy wearing brown boots.