I LOVE shoes.
Like really quite passionately love them, and buy lots of them, and wear six-inch heels as often as possible.
I feel like a walking cliché at times, and I make such an effort not to conform to the sorts of body images and fashions that are given out by the media.
But my love of shoes started a long time ago and I just can’t seem to shake it.
It’s not even about the way they look, not entirely anyway, it’s more about the way they make me feel when I put them on.
I’m never going to look in the mirror and be 100 per cent happy with the way I look, but when I’ve got on a good pair of six-inch heels I feel a solid 80 per cent even if I’m still in my pyjamas.
The most important thing I think, to take from my cupboard full of stilettos, or my friends 100 different eyeliners and nail polishes, is that they make us happy.
I’m trying to do more things that make me happy, to stop being ashamed to like things, and do so loudly and proudly instead.
Bad things happen, and I am of the firm belief that though it might take a month or a year or 10 years to recover from those bad things. It’s the little things that help the most in getting through difficult situations.
As difficult as it has been for me over the past few years, dealing with school and college and exams, falling out of contact with friends and growing up, one of the things I have always been able to rely on is my ability to slip into a pair of ostentatious high heels and immediately feel a thousand times better.
My dad thinks I’m crazy, and I had a really awful fall a few months ago, but one fall in 18 years does not outweigh the hundreds of times I’ve felt amazing and beautiful in a pair of gorgeous shoes.
If you have anything to add, feel free to email me, Danielle Shaw, at firstname.lastname@example.org