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I’m in the bath staring down at the scar on my knee, the ugly reminder of the tumble I took on the way to my work’s Christmas party in the middle of December. I was running late, I wasn’t really looking where I was going & I was wearing a pair of ridiculous high-heeled shoes, the only pair I own, the only pair I’ve ever owned. I can’t walk in heels, but there seems to be this societal understanding that a girl who can’t walk in high heels is some sort of failure, so I bring them out to make myself a little more camouflaged at unbearable things like work Christmas parties. I didn’t really know where the party was and I guess that the moment I spotted the venue, I stopped watching where I was going, and I caught my foot on an uneven paving slab. For a moment, I’m doing a slow...

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