She is such a girl

I think it's safe to assume most females have had The "Adorable" Shoe experience. It typically goes as follows:

• You spot an adorable pair of shoes
• You try them on and they manage to even feel adorable
• You buy them
• During the shoes' first night at home, they magically shrink and distort themselves into medieval torture devices
  
• You wear them the next day and your feet ARE IN PAIN
• You spend the rest of the day limping around
  
• You are now faced with the decision to either return the uncomfortable shoes or keep them by lying to yourself, "They'll stretch out. I'll just have to break them in."

I first had The "Adorable" Shoe experience with a gorgeous pair of hunter-green Keds. (Why, yes, my childhood was during the late 80s/early 90s. Why do you ask?) They were painfully small but looked amazing with my white push-down socks.

I choose to keep those rockin' Keds and limped around all summer.

Last night, I found a sweet pair of red shoes for Madeline.

I loved them and I knew she would love them. I thought they held the potential to replace her sequined dress shoes that she's worn every day since Halloween, her "glass slippers." The glass slippers have become like a fourth family member to us.

I was right about the red shoes. Madeline immediately kicked off the glass slippers and wanted to wear the red shoes right. that. moment.

But when she put them on, I noticed that her chubby feet seemed to be exploding out of the shoes. Then, with a happy grin on her face, she began to limp around. I kept asking her if they hurt her feet and she'd reply, "No, Mommy! I love it! Thank you!"

All said while limping. And all I could think was, "Oh, honey. You're such a girl."

Then she asked to wear them as soon as she popped out of bed this morning. Again, her feet barely seem to fit. Again, she started limping. And again, she repeatedly thanked me for the red shoes while denying any pain.

After a few minutes, I made her take them off. Because as much as I want to trust the judgment of my daughter, I don't.

I saw this:

Oh, the price of beauty. In case you think maybe it just looked bad, when I touched the reddest part of her foot, she nearly started crying.

But despite that, she still keeps trying to tell me that she needs to wear them.

After my tenth refusal, I think she understood needed to find the next best thing to wearing them herself.

In the end, the really sad part of this story is that I'm now lying to myself and saying, "Maybe we can just stretch them out." I'm dreading returning them.