I'm 29, 5'7", and until about four months ago, I had this habit of making myself smaller. Not just physically - though yeah, that too. I mean in every way that mattered.

In meetings, I'd sit back in my chair, wouldn't interrupt, waited until everyone else had spoken before I'd offer an opinion. On the Tube, I'd press myself against the pole to let bigger blokes have more room. At bars, I'd somehow always end up at the back of the group, peering between shoulders to see what was happening.

I thought I was just being polite. Considerate. Not making a fuss.

Turned out I was just trying not to be noticed being short.

The Wedding Photo

My older brother got married last summer. Big fancy do, loads of family I hadn't seen in years. Everyone kept saying how much I'd grown - which is what adults say when they can't think of anything else, isn't it? Except I hadn't grown. I'd been the same height since I was 16.

The photographer lined us up for the family photo. All the cousins, uncles, my dad and brother. And without anyone saying a word, I just... moved to the front. Muscle memory. The short one goes in front. Always has, always will.

I smiled for the camera, but inside I was doing the maths. My brother's 6'1". My dad's 5'11". Even my younger cousin had hit 5'10" and he's only 19. And there I was, front and centre, trying to look like this was exactly where I wanted to be.

When the photos came back, I couldn't look at them. My mum kept posting them on Facebook, tagging me, and I'd just react with a thumbs up and move on. Couldn't bring myself to save a single one.

That's when I realised: I'd spent my entire adult life trying to be invisible. And I was fucking exhausted.

The Amazon Cart

I'd seen the ads before. Probably scrolled past them a hundred times on Instagram. Height insoles, elevator shoes, all that. Always thought it was a bit tragic, to be honest. Like admitting defeat.

But after the wedding, something shifted. I started actually clicking on them. Reading reviews. Watching YouTube videos of blokes unboxing them, testing them, reviewing them. Some of them were proper cringe - those massive platform shoes that look like something from the 70s. But then I found Inchmaxxing.

What got me was the reviews. Not the "these changed my life!" ones - those felt too good to be true. But the ones where blokes were just... honest. "Yeah, they're not as comfy as normal shoes, but you forget about it." "Took me a week to get used to them, now I don't even think about it." "My missus found them and didn't care."

I added them to my Amazon cart. Then deleted them. Added them again. Deleted them again. This went on for three weeks.

Finally, I just thought: fuck it. What's the worst that happens? I try them, hate them, and I'm out thirty quid? I've spent more than that on worse decisions.

Ordered the Elevate size. Figured I'd start in the middle, not go straight to the Summit. Ease myself in.

Week One

The first time I put them in, I felt like a fraud. Stood in my bedroom, looking at myself in the mirror, thinking: this is pathetic. You're pathetic.

But then I left the house.

I stopped at Pret for a coffee before work. The lad behind the counter made eye contact with me when he took my order. Sounds small, but usually people's eyes sort of... skim past me? Hard to explain. But this time, he looked right at me.

At work, I had a meeting with my manager about a project I'd been pushing for. Usually in these meetings, I'd sit slightly hunched, make myself smaller, not want to seem too demanding. This time, I sat up straight. Didn't even realise I was doing it until halfway through.

She approved the project. Said I'd shown real initiative lately. Asked if I'd thought about taking on more leadership responsibilities.

I wanted to say it was the insoles. That those two extra inches had magically made me more confident, more capable, more everything.

But that's not really it, is it?

What Actually Changed

Here's the thing nobody tells you: the height isn't really what changes. It's that you stop spending energy on being short.

Before, I'd walk into a room and immediately clock who was taller than me. Which was everyone. I'd position myself in conversations to not be standing directly next to the tallest bloke. I'd avoid certain types of shoes because they made me look shorter. I'd stand a certain way in photos.

All of that takes energy. Mental energy you don't even realise you're spending until you stop spending it.

With the Inchmaxxers, I'm still not tall. I'm still shorter than most blokes I know. But I'm not THE short one anymore. I'm just... normal. Average. And that's weirdly freeing.

I don't think about my height anymore. At least, not in that constant background anxiety sort of way. It's just not taking up space in my brain.

Which means I've got more energy for everything else.

Four Months In

I wear them most days now. Not every day - sometimes I just can't be arsed, or I'm wearing shoes they don't fit in properly. But probably five days out of seven.

Nobody's said anything. Not one person has mentioned it, asked about it, or looked at me funny. Which tells me either they're way more subtle than I thought, or people just aren't paying as much attention to me as I thought they were.

Probably the second one.

I'm speaking up more in meetings. Actually putting myself forward for things instead of waiting to be asked. Went on a date last week with a girl from Hinge - she was about 5'6" - and I didn't spend the entire night worrying about whether she thought I was too short. We're going out again on Friday.

My brother sent me the wedding photos the other day. Asked if I wanted prints of any. I actually looked at them this time. And yeah, I'm still in the front row. But I'm standing up straighter. Smiling properly, not that tight uncomfortable smile I usually do.

I look like I'm supposed to be there.

To Anyone Reading This

If you're thinking about trying these - properly thinking about it, not just idly scrolling - then you already know you need something to change.

Maybe it's not the insoles specifically. Maybe it's something else. But if you're spending mental energy every single day managing how people perceive your height, then that energy could be going somewhere else.

I'm not saying these will fix everything. I'm not suddenly successful or confident or dating models or whatever. I'm still me. Same job, same mates, same problems.

But I've stopped apologising for taking up space. And that alone has been worth it.

Four months ago, I would've written this whole thing off as sad. Blokes spending money to feel better about themselves, how pathetic.

Now I think: we all spend money to feel better about ourselves. Gym memberships, nice clothes, haircuts, cars we can't quite afford. Why is this any different?

It's not, really. It's just more honest about what it's trying to fix.

So yeah. That's my confession. I wear height insoles most days, nobody knows, and I'm okay with that.

Actually, I'm more than okay with it.