At age 11, I bought my first pair of high heels — the clunky, woven, $10 kind from Payless ShoeSource. I wore the shoes to my uncle’s wedding, and, partly due to my age, partly due to the discomfort, they barely made it 10 minutes in to the reception.

Unfortunately, I’m no longer allowed to look like a shoeless lunatic at formal events — or, well, I really just don’t allow myself to do so. In the past seven years, I’ve accumulated probably 50 pairs of high heels, many of which are heinous and virtually murder my feet just for the sake of fashion.

Now, I’m sure many of you are thinking I shouldn’t wear the shoes, but for me it isn’t that easy. To heel or not to heel is not a question.

As I’ve gotten older, I’ve progressed to wearing heels with more than just formal dresses, and with each morning I decide to wear high heels, I must make the decision between cheap and expensive.

Many people will say all high heels are wretched, no matter how much money they cost. Let me clarify that — they’re wrong. So for two days, I shoved my size-seven feet into two different pairs of high heels, virtually asking for the torturous pain of an extra four inches.

For my first trial date with high heels, about a month ago, I strapped on the “expensive” ones. I wore a pair of Nine West black patent “Zampa” mary janes with a bright red 3 3/4-inch heel, which retailed for $79.99. And they looked a bit intimidating. The shoes appear to be a collision between Holly Golightly and Phillip Lim: bold, yet traditional.

Despite their appearance, I strapped on the shoes at 8:30 a.m. — and, shockingly, they stayed on.

I wore them to three classes, then to work, and even kept them on when I strutted down Grand River Avenue in the rain to get dinner. It wasn’t until I was waiting for the performance of “Saltimbanco” by Cirque du Soleil to start that I began to feel discomfort, which was nearly 12 hours after I first put the shoes on. Not too bad, although, when I did take the shoes off, my feet were all kinds of deformed. They cracked and popped and were practically a human orchestra of sounds. Gross, I know.

And then there was today, Nov. 8.

I should have known the shoes would be hell before I even put them on. I bought the pair of black slingback stilettos from Forever 21 at the low price of $22.80. First clue: I bought them at Forever 21. Sure, it’s a great store for inexpensive clothes, but when it comes to shoes, it’s good at first, but when your body starts falling apart, the shoes aren’t so sweet any more.

So the shoes went on at 9:10 a.m. I trotted over to breakfast, took my time, then went to my biology class. Not 15 minutes into lecture, I was ready to slide the heels off and pitch them down to the front row. I had morphed back into my 11-year-old self, only this time I wasn’t even dancing.

For starters, it’s awkward to be sitting in a lecture with heels on. I’m crammed next to some frat brother who probably thinks I’m a psycho for wearing stilettos to class to begin with. I was shifting in my seat, crossing my legs, trying to force myself to keep the shoes on and not flying at my T.A. It really couldn’t have gotten much more awkward, so I was relieved when class finally ended.

And then it started to snow.

When the flakes started falling, I still had to tread from Giltner Hall to The State News. So I buttoned up my peacoat and headed off. Normally, I would be able to make the walk in about five minutes. But when I was stuck in awful (but cute!) shoes, my timing was about twice as long.

Currently, I’m shoeless. After only about four hours wearing the cheap high heels, I flung them off in exchange for leopard print ballet flats (retail: $49.99).

Unfortunately, it seems that price does matter when it comes to high heels. You pay more for 12 hours and less for only four.

Instead, I propose we all take a page from our 11-year-old alter egos. Dirty feet are still more comfortable than high heels of any price.