Tag: Short

Maybe I Should Just Go Barefoot.

Posted on by Sierra

It wasn’t the overly-telling suction to my chicken legs. It wasn’t the apparent contour of my booty that I was worried about. You wanna know the real reason I was stressed out about embracing skinny jeans?

The Shoes. 

Skinny Jeans come with the commitment that you must also buy a specific sort of shoe. This just felt like a large fashion commitment. So I was, admittedly, a late adopter. 
I find these shoes REPUGNANT and blister-inducing.
No offense. Image Source
And while I think I have somewhat navigated the world of skinny jeans, I think I am still working out the shoe part (and the sock part for that matter). 
I have come to realize that I am not the best accessorizer of feet. 
I don’t consider myself a “fashionista” but I’ve always considered my style “comfortably cute,” to say the least. I mean, I get compliments on what I wear, so I can’t be a horrible dresser. But recently I’ve had an epiphany. I don’t get compliments on my shoes. I get… comments. 
It all started in ninth grade. We did this thing called “The Issuing of the Faults,” where everyone went around in a circle and told one another their faults. It was a bonding experience. I don’t remember what anyone else said really (well, Elaine told me I had ugly hands, but whatever), but something that Ruth said stung me to the core. 
Before I tell you, I should probably paint a character sketch of Ruth…. and Ruth, you must understand, I mean this very lovingly and with extreme affection. Ruth wore the Muppets on her clothes. Usually she wore a long-sleeved striped shirt underneath a short shirt and sometimes overalls. All her clothes were purchased at Savers. Truth be told, it was one of my favorite things about her. She was a hipster long before it was cool to dress… like that.
My point is, it blistered when Ruth announced  that she didn’t like my shoes. It was the first time I gave into peer pressure; I bought new shoes that weekend. 
But I still remember these very shoes with nostalgic fondness! 
Here’s the best image I could rustle up.
If you can’t tell, these shoes had a one-inch foam platform, and were cobbled with brown striped suede. They gave me the needed height to navigate the high school halls with dignity. Apparently my dignity was misplaced. 
Years later, my feet are still getting comments, though I am realizing that the bulk of my trouble comes from my sock issues. Jeremy has REAL issues with my socks. 
Most Recently, the comments have been:
  • “Sierra, your socks.. don’t even come close to matching.”–Jared
  • “Jared, haven’t you noticed? Sierra’s socks never match.”–Kristy
  • “Sierra, those are boy socks”–Chloe  (To which, I scathingly reply, “No they are not! I stole them from my mom’s sock drawer.”)
  • “Sierra, you’ve got to stop wearing my socks.”–Jeremy (yesterday)
  • “Are those really the shoes you want to wear today?”–Jeremy (he says this every time I want to wear my beloved moccasins). 

I thought all was fair in socks and war, as long as Burkenstocks or Jelly Sandals weren’t involved. 
But you know what, I have cold feet, so I need warm (boy) socks! And I get ready in the dark, and so I can’t be asked to locate socks that match in the dark in the immediacy of the cold feet issue!
Jeremy told me I needed to purchase these special (flimsy, piece of crap) socks to accompany my skinny jeans shoes. But honestly, I don’t see the major difference between 
This:

and This:
Honestly, you can still see my socks no matter what, but in one pair my feet are cold and the other are not. 

And you know what?! If Moccasins had platforms, I would certainly be buying those too. 

Sh-All

Posted on by Sierra
I think I’ve shared this with you before, but I’m not a graceful person. Nor do I ever plan on being a graceful person. When people see me coming at fast food restaurants, the employees don their ponchos and man the napkin booths, discretely dropping stacks of napkins on my food tray for the inevitability that food gets all over my shirt–or all over their shirts (I’m that spasmodic with a hamburger). Other manifestations of my lack of physical dexterity: I trip. A lot. Lately, I’m like Adele Webber, and ten points to you if you catch my allusion.
Take last night for instance: I was trying to remove my impediment boots, boots that normally are the cause of my stumbles, and in the process, I nearly fell–derriere-first–onto the floor. Were it not for my safety net of tall boy, I would have fallen to my tailbone’s demise. But you see, I’m not graceful in Vans, let alone very tall boots with large heels that aerate the lawn.
Which brings me to my point. My new boyfriend and I have a tallness problem. I’m not sure if the problem is his fault for being too tall, or my fault for being too short.
For proof, I have included the following photos:
Do you see the angle of incline that our necks are being forced to perform? Do you understand the inherent difficulties of craning? (Please note: in this picture, I am wearing three-inch heels).

And take this photo for example. See, here, the height difference doesn’t actually look all that alarming.
But friends, I encourage you to look closer, or at least scroll downward.
TIPTOES!

Friends, it appears I will be condemned to heels for quite some time. I feel like perhaps I should get better insurance, or perhaps join a group called “Short Support,” where we all get together and whine about not being able to get things on the top shelf, or practice wearing stilts.
Are there any Sh-All (Short Tall) couples out there who have had successful lives together that can share their words of wisdom? Would anyone like to alleviate my stress by telling us how cute we are together?
Because… honestly, truth be said in full, I’m not so worried about the height difference. I just wanted to show off my new boyfriend! Isn’t he handsome? And so very tall?