The Short End of the Stick

I'm 5'3". Most days, I don't give my height much thought. I'm not the shortest woman around.

And then I go buy pants...

I bought some sweatpants from Victoria's Secret a few weeks ago. These sweatpants, to be exact. They are the comfiest sweatpants I've ever worn, so if you're in the market for sweats, consider these beauties. Not my point, though. My point is that before I could snuggle into the couch in my seriously soft pants, I had to hem them. Hemming sweatpants = cutting the bottom off and embracing the inevitable curl and slight frayed edge at the bottom. I cut 5 1/2" off. I looked at these big swatches of brand new fabric and realized...I'm pretty short.

I had that problem again today. I needed to pick up some nicer clothes. Blouses, dress pants. My first problem was the limited selection at the BX. Sometimes it seems like the maternity section is larger than the regular women's section. When I weeded through and found some pants options, I discovered a whole bunch of extra fabric. I bought a pair on sale that fit perfect down to the ankles.

I guess it's a good thing my mom taught me how to sew and hem, right? I remember her always joking that her shopping trips for work clothes were never done until she hemmed the pants she bought. I know the feeling now that I need to dig up some black thread and a needle. Oh the joys of being outside the mystical "average" American size.