I’ve become a little sandal crazed this season. Usually I’ll invest in one or two pairs, and truly get the most out of sandals from seasons past. But this year, for some reason, sandals are my jam. I’ve literally scoured the interwebs for cool and interesting ones to invest in (seriously, if you’re looking for a specific sandal, I probably know where to find it). 

But with new sandals comes the ordeal of having to work them in. No matter what, with any new sandal I purchase, they could be made from the tears of Jesus himself, I will still get a horrific blister. And probably a scar. And people will look at my feet and be all, “what the hell happened to you?!” But when you love something so much, you’ll do anything to make it work, right? 

Last season I was lusting after the high gladiator sandals that go up to your knee. After much contemplation, I threw in the towel and invested in this great pair that was made out of tan leather. They were delicious. I wore them the first chance I got, which was out to dinner one evening. Let’s just say by the time I had made it into the restaurant, I was close to tears. The blisters that these bad boys had caused sent me writhing in pain. Even the idea of vacating the restaurant made me cringe. I begged my friend to carry me out of said restaurant “Bodyguard-style” … but alas that didn’t go over too well. So I hobbled my ass out of the restaurant in the most awkward fashion humanly possible, and vowed to burn said sandals as I lathered up in Neosporin and soaked my aching feet. 

Once the blisters healed, and the pain subsided … I gave my ritualistic burning of my gladiators another thought. I loved them. I would have kissed them, if that wouldn’t be so strange. How could I part with them?! And that’s when it hit me. Just like with pretty much EVERYTHING in life, no pain … no gain. I had to dedicate myself and my body and my pain tolerance to breaking these gladiators in. And if that meant my feet would get some scars, and I would have to invest in a lifetime supply of blister bandaids … then so be it. 

Flash forward to present day, and I can now wear my high gladiator sandals everywhere and anywhere without any tears. I suppose this feeling is comparable to Rocky running up the Art Museum steps … you know, jumping up and down, arms up like … “I’m the MAN!” Right? Okay maybe not THAT dramatic. But still … 

So when I came face-to-face with a similar situation with a pair of sandals I recently purchased that gave me 5 blisters in less than an hour and left my feet rather scarred, I had to tell myself the same thing. No pain no gain when it comes to cute sandals. You either suck it up and forge through, so you can arrive on the outside of breaking in a pair of sandals like a boss … or you could be a wuss who gives up and has to stare jealously at all the cool girls in their bad ass sandals that you cannot wear … because … well … you’re a wuss. 

So ladies … if you have a pair of sandals that you adore, but cannot stand the pain … forge forward. Keep your eye on the prize and work them in a little bit each day, even if that means doing a lap around your house and taking them off. The end result is worth all the blisters in the world, trust.