I still wear hooker shoes

Years ago, when I first met my husband's mother, she commented on my choice of shoes. I was wearing a long skirt with a tank top, and we were going out. She took one look at my knee high black boots with a chunky heel and exclaimed,

"You are wearing streetwalker boots!!!"

She sounds like a pearl clutcher, but really, she's not. Nor is she from the farms of Amish town or the halls of a convent. Streetwalker? Really? Who says that? A hooker is a hooker is a hooker. Go ahead and say hooker boots. (to which most hookers would laugh, since they were more clubbin boots. I got game.) I should have told her to save the streetwalker business for someone that doesn't know that she shows off her cleavage. Always.

Anyways, I have given birth to 3 kids. And cared for several more. I have found grey hairs on my head and worn my pajamas to drop my kids off at school more times than I can count. I have worn fat mom pants, and driven a mom car. I scrapbook, and fold laundry and only get my hair done a few times a year. And nails. I work out sometimes and stuff my face with my kids leftovers the other days.

But if you open my closet, there they be...... hooker shoes. High heels galore, boots with heels. And when I put them on... I am every bit the hot momma that my husband met all those years ago. I will always have hooker shoes.