Trip a little light fantastic

This may seem a faintly ridiculous thing to admit when there are so many bigger things to deal with in the shitshow that is MS; but I miss my heels. 

I really do.

My love affair with elevation was a long time coming - I was only allowed very sensible shoes as a child, I spent my teens in Doc Martens and my uni years in Britpop skirts and trainers.

But when I started my first foray into office wear in my early twenties, I fell head over, er, heels for the siren song of the stiletto.

I loved them all. Gravity defying heels in a huge variety of colours and designs. Row upon row of peep-toes, kitten heels, mules, wedges, court shoes, strappy sandals, ankle boots, calf boots, knee boots. All glorious, all colourful, all massively impractical.

I taught myself to balance on some insanely vertiginous styles. I made myself run on shoes that could topple stilt walkers. No heel was too high.

Then, MS.

The impact wasn't immediate, I still had a few good heel-wearing years left in me. I made it through some nights of non-stop dancing in my favourite spangly styles, I shimmied down the aisle in a pretty impressive pair and carried on pounding the office corridors in my three-inch courts.

But time, along with my MS, has since advanced. I trip over quite frequently and my balance is now too ropey to contemplate more than a few moments in my highest set and not much longer in the lower ones.

It came home to me just how much had changed last week when I managed to spectacularly - and publicly - over-balance in what I had thought were a safe pair of low, block-heeled boots.

It's rubbish. Heels make me happy - they lift not just my body, but my soul. They make me feel confident and elegant and a little bit grown-up.

And they remind me of a time when I didn't have to concentrate really, really hard to be able to wear them. Or, to be honest, do almost everything else.

I can't slip them on any more without wondering where the nearest chair/table/person/flower bed is to cushion my fall.

However, I can't bring myself to get rid of them yet, the minxy dignity-killers, so they sit lined up in my cupboards waiting for a little balance miracle.

Or even the chance to be invited to a sitting-down party. They'd be excellent at that.

:: Trip a little light fantastic by Lin-Manuel Miranda