Tuesday, January 02, 2007



I've been the tall girl since seventh grade. Or so I thought. I remember there were these twin boys who were taller than me in junior high and my equally tall friend, Theresa, who moved away in eighth grade. And yet, when I look back at the few pictures I have of that time, I don't seem so huge. Of course, comparing myself to my 5'9" sister (on the right) isn'exactly a fair display of what it felt like to be surrounded by boys who were struggling to reach past 5'2". I was probably 5'7" then, inching steadily up another three inches, hovering over my friends and enemies until ninth grade when a few more of the boys finally caught up. It's hard to choose which of the various ills was the truly defining trauma of those years. There were bad haircuts, acne, glasses, braces, bad fashion sense (even for 1982), being the new kid, being insanely shy and insanely tall. I feel bad for that girl as if she wasn't me.

Even back then, I wasn't entirely aware of my height. Of course, every now and then some wit would ask me about the weather up there and the full burden of it would climb onto my shoulders. That's when I started the tall girl slump. Of course there was also the big boob slump, the fuck you slump and the tissue paper heart slump. Do seventh grade girls still do this? Or has the teenage slut look made them all falsely bold?

Nowadays, when a really tall woman is in the same room as me I feel a ridiculous flash of competitiveness. You think you're tall, bitch. . .why don't you take off those heels and we'll really see what we're looking at? Every day I work to erase the muscle memory of those junior high hallways and untie the knots in my shoulders that feel like bone. But still, on a night like this New Year's Eve, when I looked around the dance floor, I couldn't help but notice that I was the tallest girl there, tallest person around practically. I love being tall, especially on dance floors. It scares off a certain kind of unwanted attention. And yet, I can't help but wish that, just once, I was that cute little petite woman who knows how to shake it even in stilleto heeled boots. A little bit of that twelve-year old longing snaps across my skin.

1 comment:

  1. "f" those tiny bitches!

    I kid. (sort of).

    Perhaps you've noticed that there are A TON of wee little ladies that claim to only want to be with fellas who are 6'2'' and above. Yes? Well, I used to HATE THAT.. Really hate it, like "excuse me the WHOLE WORLD IS TALLER THAN YOU, MAYBE YOU COULD SPARE THE REALLY BIG ONES FOR US TALL LADIES? eh?!?!"

    So, I finally asked a good friend of mine who is one of these wee ones why that is, I mean really! And she said it's because it makes her feel very protected and safe.

    Ever feel like you need a big big boy to make you feel protected and safe, tbird? I know I haven't. Fuck that shit, I'll kick your ass myself!

    I think that's when I stopped being jealous of them. The little ones.

    Although, I believe you have a half an inch on me, so maybe I can't know you pain. :)

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