The break-up letter every woman should write.

Okay – you’re pretty. Very pretty. And I have spent a lot of money on you. I’ve tried to make you happy.

But it’s over. I’m sorry. I know this has come out of the blue for you.

The moment I saw you I knew I had to have you. I tried to walk away and distract myself with one of those fancy, inside-out California rolls with orange caviar on the outside, but it didn’t work. I popped a double-mint Extra and made my way back to you.

The days I got to bring you home were some of the happiest days of my life.

But sadly, there aren’t enough Band-Aids in the world to fix our relationship and trust me, I’ve tried them all.

No, Band-Aids aren’t the right metaphor in this particular case. If only – then maybe we would still have a shot.

Let’s run through my grievances. You’ll probably spot a theme:

• Torn skin under my ankles.
• Torn skin on my pinkie toe.
• Blisters, everywhere. Yes, you can get a blister on the top of your big toe.
• Pain, incredible pain.
• A sore lower back.
• An unnatural gait.
• The time I fell over in the middle of an intersection and it was all your fault.
• The time I slipped over at a shopping centre and once again, it was all your fault.

And you can’t accuse me of not trying. I tried. For 20 years I’ve tried. I’ve tried the aforementioned Band-Aids, I’ve tried gel heels, I’ve tried buying a size bigger, then I’ve tried buying a size smaller. I’ve tried practicing at home, I’ve tried moisturising my feet, then I stopped moisturising my feet so the skin could toughen.

I’ve concluded that as much as I would like to say, “It’s not you, it’s me”, I’ve finally come to the conclusion that it’s you. It’s all you.

Look, you can’t help being who you are. You’re high heels, for goodness sake. You are beautiful and everyone wants you. I know you’ve tried to change. You’ve tried to be more comfortable, you’ve tried not to give me blisters, but you can’t help who you are.

You’ll never be comfy flats so stop trying to be. You can’t change who you are. We’re just not suited, that’s all.

We need to admit to who we are and move on. You need to be high heels, and I need to be someone without a painful ugly blister on her ankle. And this one is a real doozey. It is taking ages to heal due to its size and location and I can only wear thongs at the moment, not even sandals.

I’m sick of it. Do you hear me? SICK OF IT. So I’m afraid this is where I say goodbye. I wish you all the best.

No, I won’t be visiting. I think a clean break is best, don’t you? No, that wasn’t a pun.

Could you please stop crying? You’re just trying to manipulate me. You know you do that.

I’m feeling positive about my future, and you should too. Being able to walk without tripping and slipping without my skin tearing, without those bloody blisters.

I know it’s not all your fault. It’s my fault too.

I can see that you’re great, and beautiful, and I see people look at you. You won’t be alone for long.

But high heels, you just aren’t the shoes for me.

What about you? Do you prefer heels or flats?

High heels hurt - so instead take care of your feet and treat them to one of these favourite flat shoes...