I’ve got something to confess. I’ve been lying about my height since I was 21. And I’d been doing it for so long I’d actually convinced myself it was the truth.
It all started on Tuesday when I went to the doctor’s for a check-up. ‘Sit down’, she said. ‘So when was the last time your weight, height and blood pressure was checked?’
I was quite taken aback. I haven’t been measured since I was a kid and that was just my dad drawing pencil lines on the wall. ‘Do you know how tall you are?’ she said. Of course! 5ft7. She gave me a look as if to say… ‘hmmm, we’ll see about that shall we?’
Imagine my surprise when she revealed that I am in fact 170cm. That’s a very precise 5ft5.8 inches and not 5ft7.
‘I knew it!’ shouted my boyfriend, who’s now rounded it down to 5ft5 and taken to pointing, laughing and patting me on the head. He’s never believed the 5ft7 lie despite my protests.
I was mortified and sure I was Keira Knightley tall rather than Tina Turner short.
So I’ve put away my ‘this season’ flat shoes and dug out my old faithful heels again. Well, if I can’t actually be 5ft7 on my own then at least I can fake it!