Its a Girl Thing

I can be said to be a victim of over-tallness syndrome, and it not unusual for me to get a lot of remarks from strangers on the road. For example, there's the classic 

'Wow' (accompanied by a wonder-struck, upturned visage).

Or, most common when in the company or orthodox, short, fat, Indian women,

'You're never going to get married' (said with a sense of distinct disapproval).

I've blogged before about the disadvantages of abnormal height. Actually, any physical abnormality has its disadvantages, in that the sufferer of the said disadvantage is subjected to a lot of annoying remarks from strangers and loved ones alike. Some people are merely curious; others, astounded; most see it as an opportunity to exhibition their self-glamourised sense of humour.

So, yes, I also get a lot of the,

'How's the weather up there?' 

and

'Oh! My neck is breaking! Help! Hahahahah!'

All this I have gracefully learned to live with.

What really killed me, was when I went to Jimmy Choo last week and fell in love. 

Oh, he was beautiful, and soft, and pink, with the perfectly crafted platform sole, and exquisitely fitted stiletto heel. It was the stiletto heel that drew me to him: the heel that my own heels melted into, that my calves tensed for, that my back arched towards. And it was this very four-inch heel that rejected me. Waddling around the shop floor, bent over double so as to avoid spoiling the nice ceiling, I was the laughing stock of that boutique for a good five minutes. I had to leave feeling hurt, rejected, and inadequate. I took one last look at those beautiful heels, and walked out of the shop with whatever precious dignity I had been left with.