The Trials of Being Tall
When I use the word tall, I mean tall: I'm a 6 foot 1 inch 17-year-old female. Unless you are an Amazon woman or you have no other precedent to base your judgment off, that’s really freakin’ tall. Most of my friends are around 5’5 or below.
Don’t get me wrong, I actually LOVE my height. It makes me unique and I stand out in a crowd. But there are a few irksome issues that are worth mentioning:
1. Guys my age can’t deal with dating a girl who is at their height (or close to it).
Time and time again I have tried dating, and time and time again it has not worked out in my favor. I had decided that relationships aren’t my thing, but upon further thought, I have come to realize that there is one common factor in all of my failed attempts at dating: EVERY BOY had problems with my tall stature and was very adamant that I not wear heels or anything else that would make me even REMOTELY taller. And then they would decide that the height thing was too weird and proceed to date my adorable, 5’2” cheerleader/dancer friends with curves. IT SUCKS. I’ve even talked to my psychologist about this (I HAVE ANXIETY PROBLEMS. LEAVE ME ALONE.) and he has confirmed that boys are VERY insecure about their bodies and that it is scientifically proven that most find it very difficult to find tall girls attractive.
Wooooo. Go me.
2. Jeans NEVER fit.
From what I can tell, retail stores assume that height and waist size are correlative and proportionate, meaning that as a girl increases in height, she increases in size. As one can see from turning on the television or walking around in public, this clearly is not the case, as everyone is different. I go in to buy jeans and they are either waiting-for-the-flood jeans, or look-at-me-I-lost-7 billion-pounds-on-Jenny-Craig jeans. I have gotten to the point where I have to CUSTOM ORDER all of my jeans online, because I need a 38” inseam and I’m a 5. In mall world, 38” inseam means size 44, and size 5 means an inseam of about 20 inches.
3. I can’t wear dresses or skirts to school because everything looks skank-length on my legs.
So not only can I barely wear jeans, but skirts and dresses, my only other options, are ABSOLUTELY out of the question because the school administrators have radar for any skirts that would not be approved by a Reverend Mother and I get about 30 warnings and I’m sent to the front office before the beginning of first period. I remember one day when I was hell-bent on wearing a dress to school. I measured the length of the skirt to my knee 12 times. The skirt must be “mid-thigh” or “6 inches or less from the knee.” The skirt was a definite 3 inches from my knee when I was sitting, standing, walking, running, skipping, dancing, twirling, singing, and somersaulting. I went to school feeling pretty and stylish and before I knew it I had been stopped and ominously threatened by the woman at the front desk, who ordered me into the office with an admonition that I was clearly out of the bounds of the dress code. I had to call my mom and get jeans. As I left the office, a cheerleader walked right past the desk, gave the evil woman a cheery smile, and flounced on her way to class, her mini-skirt bouncing up high enough to give the entire world a peek at her hot pink underwear.
4. Tall girls are rarely written into plays as “lead female” or “heroine”, and are instead “weird minor supporting cast member with physical insecurities who bullies people.” I am in the theater department at my high school, and I cannot tell you HOW MANY TIMES I have been passed up for a role I could play better than anyone else (because I’m perfect and whatnot) because I was too tall for the guy who was cast opposite. I’ve been denied many opportunities to showcase my talents to prospective colleges and college scouts simply because of my height. That’s discrimination, people. Someone should do something.
5. When I’m out in public with my very young siblings, people assume they’re MY children and give me scandalized looks. If I had a dollar for every time an older woman averted her eyes as I walked past in the supermarket with my 5-year-old sister on my hip, I would have like.. a lot of dollars. When she was fresh out of the oven it was even worse. I would get stuck at the table at restaurants feeding her because I have “I handle awkward and forcedly maternal situations well” stamped on my forehead (I have years of pictures of me at family reunions stuck in a corner with small children covered in stickers to prove it).
These are just a few minor problems that I’ve been bothered by, growing up with the rest of my age group at my shoulders. But I’ve learned to accept the good with the bad, and love the body I’m in, because it’s not like I can really get height reduction surgery.
I can’t, right?
LOVE YOURSELF FOR WHO YOU ARE, TALL OR SHORT OR LATERALLY ENDOWED.
Post by carrie!
Do you struggle with being taller than everyone else (or shorter)?