I am tall. Not tall as in I’m-taller-than-most-guys kind of tall, but tall-enough-to-be-a-model kind of tall.
People assume there are benefits to being tall, and of course, there are: I can reach things on high shelves! No one is going to card me at the movie theater! I can easily find people in a crowd just by peering over everyones’ heads! HOORAY!
But for all you average-height or less-than-average height folks out there, please don’t fret. There is a cornucopia of problems that come with being a tall lady.
You know what I can’t do? Grow extra fabric for my shirts and pants so that they are long enough to cover my appendages. Half the time I run the risk of looking like I’m wearing clothes that shrank in the wash. #laundryfail? #ithinknot
While all you petites can hem your clothes, I am stuck with either a sporting a scandalous hemline or turning a dress into a shirt. sigh
Know what else I can’t do? Wear heels without getting stares, looking like a gazelle, or listening to people’s snarkastic comments.
Speaking of which, another thing I can’t do is meet anyone new without them proclaiming that I am tall. One woman actually said to me, “Did anyone tell you that you’re gloriously tall?” No, lady. In 20-ish years, YOU are of course the first person to notice that I am tall. I have been waiting my whole life to hear this, and I am SO glad somebody FINALLY acknowledged my body size.
It would be like somebody coming up to you and saying, “Did you know that you have feet?” Well, duh.
Also, “gloriously tall”? What does that mean? Glorious is how you describe a sunrise or what it’s like to climb a mountain or your wedding day. It is NOT how you describe height.
Yet another problem arises while driving for long periods of time. Your legs get cramped because the seat isn’t long enough to support your quad muscles. sigh again
Did I mention that people assume that being tall automatically makes you a great athlete? I have the stamina of a wilting flower. It also probably doesn’t help that (as one kid in 7th grade once said to me) I “have the reflexes of a dead cow.”
So, no. I did not play basketball, volleyball, or any kind of ball.
I am also not a model, I had a really difficult time finding these pants I’m wearing, but on the plus side, the weather is indeed quite lovely up here (although it’s occasionally dampened when I stupidly walk into a low-hanging light fixture).