Being Nicole Kidman

I’ve always said that I love being the same height as my husband because we can (literally) always see eye-to-eye.  I once dated a man who was 6-foot-2 and I remember craning my neck thinking it would get tiring on an ongoing basis.  He was also an arrogant guy who thought the world revolved around himself and his venture capital deals, so moving on from him worked out well on a number of fronts.  I definitely like having a partner who is roughly the same size as me (yet thankfully weighs more).

Somehow lately I’m feeling torn about the recent comeback of stylish platform shoes.  I love how surprisingly supportive many of them are, but the real issue stems from the fact that I’m not entirely comfortable towering over my husband in social situations.  For the longest time, I’ve joked that we are “Tom and Nicole” when we go out and I’m in heels.  As a couple, she always looked sexy, leggy, and…well…sort of ridiculously like a giraffe next to him now that I think about it. Tom’s good looks made up for his lack of height ten fold, and the same is true for my husband, who stands a solid 5-foot-8 on a good day.  At 5-7 and 1/2, that gives me just 1/2 inch of wiggle room which does not leave many good options.

Last night, I went out shopping for some fun upcoming parties in hopes of finding a cute new pair of shoes that somehow might work.  We have a great Marshall’s nearby, and the shoe selection is always impressive.  Before I knew it, I was inevitably in the “casual sandal” area where the flatter shoes are, and my best option seemed to be a dumpy looking pair of Bjorn sandals with thin gold buckles to boot.  I would look more like I was headed to a mountain-top picnic in Vermont sporting those than poolside for my friend’s Cinco de Mayo party tomorrow evening.

My husband claims that the shoe issue doesn’t bother him a bit, and I think he would tell me if it did.  I’m struggling enough in the fashion department as it is, so the thought of going all season without a pair of those corky little numbers would be kind of disappointing.  Then again, I don’t want the hubs to need the kitchen step stool if he wants to kiss me. I was at a party once where I was sporting some big ol’ heels and someone I did not know asked me to point out my husband in the crowd.  “Really?” she replied, in a voice that implied he was better suited for the size 4 petite woman he was chatting with.

It’s really too bad more men aren’t into heels too.  It would even things out for me if G. came home one day and said he really wanted to start wearing clogs.  Even a pair of the comfy Danskos would give him the lift towards 5-10 that would greatly open up my shoe choices.  The chances of that happening are about as likely as him deciding to convert from boxers to briefs.  What is a girl to do?  All in the name of fashion, and some fun shoes, too.




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