One size doesn't always fit all.

Whereas my husband stood out in my home country, here I am the one who is "exotic".

Not because of my fair hair/skin or anything but mainly because of my height and shape. Here I could be considered as a (hopefully handsome) tall man. When my husband first saw me back in the day, his first thought was "Wow, two meter tall babies, here we go!". That's a true story, by the way. Who said romance was dead, sigh. Luckily, I didn't learn about this until after many years of being together.

Not only am I hovering in my own stratosphere but I'm also not the classical "junk in the trunk" pear shape, I'm rather an "egg on sticks" or "giraffe on roller skates" apple shape. My (unfortunate?) height doesn't come from my back but from my limbs.
And being this tall means also that my shoes are considered as canoes. Some locals could use them to paddle across the lake to France.

I usually haven't paid attention to my height or shape but here I feel it each time I'm trying to find clothes and/or shoes. If the trousers are long enough, they're for someone with more....uhm..."girth" than me. All fashionable skirts and dresses become mini skirts and cocktail dresses when I put them on. Shoes? Oh please. I might find a pair but rarely are they the pretty ones.

I'm not suffering alone as my husband's tall as well but there is far more choice for a tall man than there is for a tall woman. And I refuse to buy from any special shop as I don't consider myself to be a damn giant! I would be a shortie in The Netherlands, for example.

I think I have to visit home with an empty luggage and go on a shopping spree there before I freeze my boney ass here.

The giant has spoken.