People expect a young, blond disabled woman to be dainty and quiet. My DMs were evidence of my willingness to break the mould
It’s difficult to say if my first pair of Doc Martens boots were a Christmas present or a birthday present, since both fall on 25 December. Ten years later, I can’t remember if I opened them in the morning (which would make it Christmas, as far as I’m concerned), or the afternoon (which would make it my birthday). What I do know is I had just turned 17, they were luminous blue, and I loved them with all my teenage heart.
What’s strange is that over the next few years I barely wore them. Each term I devotedly ferried them up to university and then let them gather dust as I tried to fit in with the more conventional going-out attire of my peers. This, unfortunately for me, meant bodycon dresses and high heels – not an easy ensemble to pull off while sitting in a wheelchair.
