People (women) always talk about being tall like it’s the ultimate blessing from heaven. I hear all the time, “you’re tall, you can hold your weight.” If by that you mean I can gain 20 pounds before I notice, then yes. But that just means I have a lot more to lose, which never happens. So I just keep packing it on, all while still wearing basically the same size clothes. Also, I’m 5’9, and I have been 5’9 for as long as I can remember. Not in my adult life, but my entire life. For all I know, I have been this height since elementary school. In my class photos, people would ask me what I was standing on.
Need to find me in those group photos? Back, middle….every single time. In 4th grade, my mom sent me to school in a blazer. I thought I looked very distinguished. When I went through the lunch line that day, I was charged more than usual. After telling the cashier I didn’t have enough money she asked, “aren’t you a sub?” Beyond mortified. I had been mistaken for an adult woman substitute teacher at the ripe old age of nine. While I continued to grow and experience literal growing pains in my joints and bones on a nightly basis, my dad had fantasies of a star basketball player in the house. The WNBA wasn’t even a thing yet, but he daydreamed about the college scholarship offers that would be pouring in my senior year, and all the NCAA games he would attend for free. The only problem was, in my brief two year basketball career, I had only managed to score one basket off a rebound. For those of you not familiar with sports terminology, that’s two points in two seasons. Not exactly the statistics college recruiters are looking for in the next Pat Summit. I just didn’t have a competitive bone in my body. Not to mention I wasn’t a big fan of sweating, wearing shorts, or being told to “hustle”.
I haven’t even covered love life, which was non-existent. No boy wants to ask out the girl in class who is taller than their mom. Every once in a while, a shrimpy little guy would start crushing on me, and lay the charm on pretty thick, but I made a personal rule early on, that if I could see over his head, outweighed him, or could fit into his jeans, we could never be more than friends. Luckily, in high school the boys started to catch up. I shed my braces, switched glasses for contacts, and started wearing make-up. It all worked out in the end, except I still can’t walk in heals, and was forced to develop a sense of humor from my ugly duckling (or should I say giraffe) years. So ladies, don’t covet another girl’s height. Not all tall girls are models, and even the models had many awkward years before blossoming into womanhood. Wear your stilettos proudly and say a little prayer for the girls who can only wear flats, because they would kill for your calf muscles.