The Mojo Boots Strike Again

I learned the other day that Mojo Boots can even make Mormon boys blush. I took The Boy and The Girl out for lunch after school and sitting a few booths away were four Mormon boys with their name tags, ties and innocent smiles. I had to walk past them to get napkins at one point and saw one, the cutest one I might add, blush and look away as I passed.

And it made me giggle. Because even though I am sure he was blushing at thinking about how quickly I’ll be heading straight to hell upon my passing, I chose to take it as a compliment. Because I cannot even tell you how long it’s been since I’ve made anyone blush simply by walking by. And I know I’ve been talking about my Mojo Boots a lot the past few days, but you should see these suckers and what they do to my walk and attitude. It’s worthy of the capitalization and publicity I’ve been lavishing upon them.

I tried to look at myself objectively as the giggles were settling. I probably looked like a relatively hip, youngish (humor me here) mom of two gorgeous and mostly well-behaved kiddos. A woman who made the time to do her hair and who even got up early enough to put on a bit of lipstick. A woman who was pretty put together, had some style and knew it.

I thought about how that image was so radically different from even a couple of months ago. When I was hiding under baseball caps and way too baggy sweaters. When I actually spent time figuring out how to wear my pj’s to the grocery store. When it was just too much.

Now, here I was, pretty confidently taking an unsaid compliment from a boy in a restaurant. And not even really questioning that it was meant for me. I didn’t dissect it. I didn’t try to ignore it on the grounds of someone much prettier was over my shoulder. It just made me giggle. Although, I’m fairly sure that he wouldn’t have been blushing nearly as much if he had known about the hole in my sock.