Like, I'm totally jealous. I want a pair of my very own. But, alas, as is the problem with having been cursed with impossibly huge feet, many styles of shoes, this one included, if it even happened to come in my size, would look positively ridiculous. Kind of like two giant barges parked themselves at the bottom of my legs, or like two mob-sized blocks of colored cement suddenly attached themselves along with the threat of chucking me off the pier for having even entertained the thought that those shoes might look okay on my gargantuan, size 11s.
And so I project my own sense of style on my daughter, my sweet girl who goes along with it so complacently for now but is sure to rebel one day soon, who will likely one day opt for polo shirts (gasp!), shorts (horrors!) and sneakers (egads!) over what I would consider cute and fashionable.
And you know what? I'll certainly enjoy it while it lasts.