In 4 inch heels whilst carrying a heavy backpack full of groceries, I am lighter on my feet than a Ham in flats carrying nothing. To set the scene;  I was just walking home from the shops with a backpack full of heavy stuff to cook for my family tonight. I had at least a carton of soymilk, tins of sweetcorn, a bottle of wine, and the usual vegetables/salad/stock/oil in there; shit wasn't light. I'm in my 4 inch platform boots because I've come straight from job #2. I'm knackered (from working two jobs, not driving so walking between said jobs, and still going to the gym/climbing most days) but the sun's outish, I've got good tunes blaring in my headphones, and I get to cook and eat something healthy and delicious with my family tonight; I'm happy. Now, I tend to bop along a little when happy, I develop a literal spring in my step.  As I'm bopping along, I see a figure blocking the pavement before me. Indeterminate gender, hunched shouldered, and a truly weary gait that belied the apparent youth of the face. Wearing an item of clothing emblazoned with the words "THE FOOD WAREHOUSE" (Never before has a shop name also been an apt descriptor for the person wearing the garment), the creature blinked at me in slow motion. I couldn't get around it without stepping onto the road, so I did my little springy jump down from the pavement, then hopped back up behind them. I carried on mouthing to my music and bouncing down the road, when I glanced back the creature was shuffling their feet forward. I've never seen anything more dejected in my life.  I work hard for my health, really fucking hard, and I've not been doing so well recently. Sometimes, I appreciate the reminder that trying my best is still fucking winning. Congratulations, shitlords & shitladies. We're fucking winning.