Today there's a surgery for virtually any cosmetic flaw, but, save for literally breaking your legs in pursuit of extra height, vertically-challenged folks get, well, short-shrifted. At 5'7", I'm no medical anomaly, but I don't think I've ever been the tallest guy in the room. Any room. My height, or lack thereof, doesn't plague me much on a day-to-day basis, but a few extra inches would certainly be nice — especially since most pants these days come with a default 32-inch inseam, meaning I have to tack on an extra ten bucks to most of my trouser purchases (I also see my local tailor on a very regular basis).
So when I was offered the chance to test drive a pair of shoe lifts, I figured, What the hell? After all, it's long been rumored that Hollywood's more diminutive headliners (ahem, Tom Cruise) use them. If it's good enough for Scientology royalty, why not me? I test drove a pair from the label Undercover Fox, which retail for $11.95 (full disclosure: I was given a pair at no cost). They're customizable, giving the wearer the option to add one inch or a whopping two-and-a-half to their frame. I'm not using whopping pejoratively, either. When you're of my stature, those extra few inches mean a lot (as in, I wouldn't have to hem all of my pants or stand on my toes at concerts).
So do they work? Well, yes — but that shouldn't come as a surprise. Reactions were varied. When I bumped myself up an inch, it didn't elicit many responses. (One friend said that I looked different but that she couldn't place what it was. I confessed, and she laughed straight to my face.) When I slipped on the maximum boost, though, my friends were quick to point out my unexpected growth spurt, thought I doubt that passersby thought anything was amiss — they just saw a guy of average height walking by.
To be honest, while I'd assume the intended result is a feeling of confidence, if anything I felt self-conscious. In essence, I was wearing a wedged heel, not unlike those found on women's shoes. No strangers I encountered indicated they were on to me, but I felt like people knew that I had a trick up my sleeve (or in my shoes, rather). Another side effect of this inclined existence was that I felt a bit wobbly, like my center of balance had been dislocated. It took me a day or two to get my sea legs, as it were, and I'd suggest a few private strolls around the block before taking these into the big bad world or else you might end up looking like Lena Dunham at the Golden Globes. Oh, and as someone who really likes a slip-on, it should be noted that these work best with lace-up shoes or boots where you can open your shoestrings and make room for the extra cargo you're stowing in the basement.
I can only speak for myself, but I don't think a life on lifts is in my future. Still, if your Lilliputian existence causes you existential woe, I encourage you to give these a try. Amazon commenters gave them three-and-a-half stars out of five (including a woman who bought them for her "short ass husband"), and many waxed poetic over the product. One thing I'm fairly certain of, it sure beats breaking your legs.
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