I am really short. Like midget short.

(Ok, not quite, but not far off.)

One of the only people I’m actually taller than is my Grandma, but she lives in the UK, so I can’t even prove to people that I am in fact taller than another human.

This tall deficiency has its ups and downs.

UPS The boy isn’t a 6ft 8 giant, so I can both comfortably kiss him (whoop) and wear any desired height of heel without him feeling emasculated (whoop whoop). Also, when I’m feeling lazy and stuff is high up on a shelf, I can blame my genes, bring out the puppy dog eyes and have that INSERT ITEM THAT HAS PROBABLY BEEN PUT HIGH UP SO I CAN’T REACH IT HERE handed to me without lifting a finger (unless there is no one around, then I whip out my mad acrobatic skills – no jokes).

DOWNS People always seem to feel the need to tell me that I’m vertically challenged, like I’ve somehow lived my 25 years on this earth and not in fact noticed that I am small. These same people, who like to remind me of my stature (or lack of it), treat me like a child/pet, I’m talking squeals of “OMG you are soooooooo cute” (and maybe even a cheek pinch if I’m lucky). Now I know this doesn’t sound bad, and I would so much rather be “cute” than “hideous”, but I’m a strong, fashion savvy, independent woman. Cute isn’t actually an aim in my life*. Also, I can’t go on rides at amusement parks (seriously).

Another down is fashion. And it’s a super important down that gets its own entire section. Because, shy of always shopping at the kids department (if you can ever find a pair of jeans without a glittery pink butterfly sewn on the hip), it’s really hard to find clothes to fit. Entire trends are just whipped out for me, and my body shape.

One of these trends that I’m too scared to attempt is the midi hemline.


I think it’s damn gorgeous. Like sophistication and vintage chic had a baby.

A baby that I want to wear.

I am however freaked out by this baby. Could it cut my minuscule legs in half (visually of course)? Maybe emphasize my small stature? Or even drown me in never-ending folds of fabric (therefore making me look more impish than I already do)?

It will probably do all three.

What it will definitely do, is cure my Monday morning blues (that and a mid morning sugar fix).

If I ever get the guts to give it a go – height restrictions be damned.

*Yes friends and family, I can hear you snigger at the idea that I describe myself as independent while simultaneously being unable to reach the microwave in my own kitchen.

In my defense, it’s up really high. Really, really high.

Sort of.



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