When my daughter, a budding fashionista, received a $40 gift card to DSW for her 13th birthday, I knew I was in for a showdown. For the past two years, we had been clashing over whether those towering heels were appropriate for her age. She was all in favor; I was firmly against it.
Our shopping trip to DSW for back-to-school sneakers started off peacefully. She quickly snagged a pair of Nikes, while my husband and son wandered off, blissfully unaware of the impending chaos. But a quick search of the store led me to find her sprawled out in the clearance section, excitedly trying on five-inch cork wedge sandals with thick black straps and shiny gold buckles.
“Don’t you dare say anything!” she beamed at me, her face lit up with joy. I fought the urge to help her up, standing back to watch as she carefully made her way to the full-length mirror, where the preening commenced.
This wasn’t our first rodeo with high heels. At 11, my sister-in-law had gifted her a pair of shiny black 6-inch stilettos, which sent my daughter into a tizzy of excitement. My husband’s expression was priceless when I admitted I had given the gift my stamp of approval. “I look amazing!” she declared, clattering across our hardwood floors. “I’m wearing these to dinner tonight!”
“No, you’re not,” we both said in unison.
“Give me three good reasons why not!” she shot back, ever the negotiator. “They’re just… not appropriate,” we stammered, citing risks like broken ankles and the potential for “wrong impressions.” Our arguments only got more desperate as we tossed around terms like “cheap” and even referenced “ladies of the night.”
Honestly, I felt torn. While I didn’t want my preteen leaving the house in stripper heels, it was tough to make a solid case against them. She wasn’t going out naked, after all. In the end, I relented after my husband conceded the decision to me. She wore those heels out twice—once for dinner and once for a play. Both times, she attracted curious glances, but also kind comments from adults who admired her confidence and spirit, even as she acknowledged the pinch of her shoes.
Fast forward two years, and there we were again at DSW. My husband raised an eyebrow and asked, “Are you seriously letting her buy those?” I chose silence, and he left the store in a huff. Later, I explained my reasoning to him. I said yes because of the sheer joy on our daughter’s face as she admired herself in the mirror. She wasn’t just seeing her feet; she was envisioning her future self, bursting with confidence and beauty.
I said yes because she often expressed her frustration about being caught between childhood and adulthood. Those cork wedges seemed like a small step toward helping her feel less stuck in limbo. I said yes because it was her birthday gift and she deserved to make her own choices.
I’ll admit, walking next to my 13-year-old in five-inch heels does make me a bit self-conscious. I catch myself wondering if other parents are judging me for allowing her to strut around in such high shoes. But she knows they might be a tad inappropriate, yet she has always taken pride in going against the grain—she even refused to read the Harry Potter series just because everyone else was obsessed with it.
The best part? As I walk beside my suddenly towering teenager, we share a laugh when she occasionally grabs my shoulder for balance. I try to maintain my composure while she throws her arm around me, and we both end up chuckling. We understand the mixed messages here—how absurd it is in one way and yet how utterly trivial in another. Ultimately, this little adventure brings us closer together.
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Summary
In a light-hearted exploration of parenting, I share my decision to let my 13-year-old wear high heels, despite initial reservations. The joy and confidence she exudes in those shoes remind me of her journey from childhood to adolescence. Through laughter and shared experiences, we navigate the challenges of growing up together.