Life As a Tall Lady

Source: someguyssomethoughtssomewords.blogspot.co.uk
You know that annoying tall person that sits in front of you at the cinema and moves their head continuously so you can never fully see the screen? Yeah, that's probably me. Or when you're at a gig and a lanky human pops out of no where and starts waving their hands about in front of your face even though they could stand at the back of the crowd and still see everything clearly? That's also probably me. Sorry about that.

The truth is, I love being tall. You'll never lose me in a crowd, I don't need to wear heels that damage my spine, and I can reach for the porn in supermarkets (this is of course a joke, but I did have an experience where a little old man required my assistance to hand him down a copy of Nuts magazine - it was my good deed of the day). It's also fun to know that according to the Daily Mail, tall women get paid more. I am certainly not one to support inequality, but this one did make me puff up my chest just a bit. Nice.

From what I'm aware of, my unexpected growth spurt happened when I was about 13 years old. It's scary to think that my best friend Saz (yes, we're Saz & Caz - potential radio/Youtube show ideas are moving ahead as I speak) used to be taller than me, and now when I look down on her teeny 5"4 self, I ponder how on earth I shot up like a beanstalk. My friends used to tell me I should be a model...then I discovered Oreos and Cool Original flavoured Doritos and my figure went down the drain along with my dignity.

All that said, my 5"9 isn't the most gargantuan height - my friend Emily is 6" and I would chew off my arm to be as tall as her, if not even taller. But the one thing that we mutually struggle with is finding clothes that fit our frames without looking like we shop in Mothercare or used the wrong setting on our washing machines. Emily buys her jeans from Dorothy Perkins. A good choice, as their tall jeans certainly fit quite well and have  a decent sized length. Personally, I try my hardest to avoid trousers all together - if I do have to wear them, I either roll up the ends, or wear them with boots so that the ankle swingers are hidden sufficiently and the awkward moment when you look like a chimney sweep is avoided.

The irony of all this is if you glance over to the catwalk, most of the models are 5"8 or taller, which leads people to believe that designers create their clothes with us tall folk in mind. However, when I step into a store and attempt to find something that remotely fits my frame, I am greeted with jeans that graze my calves and skirts that barely cover my butt. The worst perpetrators are jackets and coats - I must admit I don't think I've ever found a coat that fits my arm length...ever. Add the terrifically unpredictable London weather and you've got a nice icy draft going all the way up your sleeve like, constantly. Every blazer I purchase must have the sleeves rolled up to prevent it from looking like it's two sizes too small and don't even get me started on blouses or long sleeved tops.. #tallgirlproblems much?

I know I know, designers need to cater for the majority - but a tiny tall section in Topshop or Dorothy Perkins (that also just happens to be ridiculously overpriced) just does not suffice anymore. We need tall shops. Tall stalls. Tall carts. Anything. Why should we be punished for our lankiness? It's not our fault our parents stuffed spinach down our throats, right?

Something must be done my towering companions. No wonder I've resorted to making my own clothes.


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