
shredded4summer
dnr busy slaying
- Joined
- Jul 8, 2023
- Posts
- 1,407
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I get heightmogged at least once a day. It’s fucking awful I can’t stand this shit. People say I’m tall, yet I walk around with other tall people daily. I live in Australia, surrounded by sexy, tall WASP men, and it’s literally torture to have to look up at these handsome bastards. I fucking hate it.
It’s not just the height, either. It’s the whole package, the perfect bone structure, the broad frames, the blue eyes. Every time I step outside, it’s like walking into a goddamn Abercrombie & Fitch ad. These guys don’t even have to try. They just exist, and the world bows to them. Meanwhile, I’m grinding every day, optimizing everything face, body, even my damn eyelashes—and it still feels like I’m just barely keeping up.
Worst part? The gaslighting. “You’re not short.” “6'3 is a good height.” “It’s all about confidence, bro.” Confidence doesn’t make me 6’10. Confidence doesn’t make me see eye-to-eye with these walking Greek statues. Confidence doesn’t change the fact that when I enter a room, I’m automatically a tier below because I have to look up at these genetic lottery winners.
And don’t even get me started on how women react. The difference in the way they look at a tall WASP with a developed square chin looking like tyler maher and how they look at me? Night and day. It’s in the subtle things, the way their eyes light up, the automatic deference, the effortless attraction. These dudes don’t even have to open their mouths. Meanwhile, I have to optimize every fucking variable just to maybe get a fraction of the attention they get for existing.
I swear, if I get mogged one more time today, I might rope
It’s not just the height, either. It’s the whole package, the perfect bone structure, the broad frames, the blue eyes. Every time I step outside, it’s like walking into a goddamn Abercrombie & Fitch ad. These guys don’t even have to try. They just exist, and the world bows to them. Meanwhile, I’m grinding every day, optimizing everything face, body, even my damn eyelashes—and it still feels like I’m just barely keeping up.
Worst part? The gaslighting. “You’re not short.” “6'3 is a good height.” “It’s all about confidence, bro.” Confidence doesn’t make me 6’10. Confidence doesn’t make me see eye-to-eye with these walking Greek statues. Confidence doesn’t change the fact that when I enter a room, I’m automatically a tier below because I have to look up at these genetic lottery winners.
And don’t even get me started on how women react. The difference in the way they look at a tall WASP with a developed square chin looking like tyler maher and how they look at me? Night and day. It’s in the subtle things, the way their eyes light up, the automatic deference, the effortless attraction. These dudes don’t even have to open their mouths. Meanwhile, I have to optimize every fucking variable just to maybe get a fraction of the attention they get for existing.
I swear, if I get mogged one more time today, I might rope