conflict, of the inner variety

For a long time now I have hated Uggs. Even when adorning the feet of loved ones I’ve hated them.
The exception to this rule was babies. I had a pair for Zizza when she was a tiny and they were adorable. I’d forgotten about them until I read Cjane’s post about boots for the chief.
That got me thinking that uggs would be a good option for Enzo. Since it’s grown too chill for his beloved flops (and also we left his favorite orange pair at his cousin’s house on Thanksgiving) He’s taken to wearing his cowboy boots, sans socks, everywhere we go.
If I plan ahead and approach it just the right way I can get him into his sneakers, but those are getting a bit snug so it’s only a matter of time until the cowboy boots are his only option and they rub leaving scabs on his dear chunky feet.
I followed Cjane’s advice and looked at the girl’s imitation uggs at Target. They didn’t have his size.
A funny thing happened during the course of all this.
I started, sort of, wishing for a pair…For myself.
I have not stopped hating them, no sir or madam, I’ll hate them to the day I die but I would sort of like a charcoal gray pair for me to go along with the chocolate brown pair I’m still hoping to find for Enzo.
Have you ever wished for something you hate? Or loved a thing for it’s ugliness?
This is not the first time for me.

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