Everywhere I go people stare at
me. At the grocery store children gawk at me wide-eyed, craning their necks and
pointing as they tug their mothers’ shirts. When I pass people on the street, I
hear them mumble comments about my appearance.
I am not deformed or handicapped,
I’m not a circus attraction. I have strawberry blonde hair and blue eyes. What
makes me different is that I’m 6-foot-4, and I’m a woman.
My entire life has been
influenced by the fact that I stand way above the average height for both men
and women. I was born two weeks late. When I finally entered the world I
weighed 11 pounds, 10 ounces and was 24 inches long. When my mom told my
grandmother my measurements, she asked in amazement, “Are you okay?!”
Shortly after my birth, my
parents and doctors started to worry that there was something wrong with me.
From infancy though high school, my parents took me to specialists for X-rays,
blood and bone tests and ultrasounds to try to discover the cause of my extreme
height. In the end, however, I had no disease or syndrome. My parents are
6-foot-3 and 5-foot-10, so I was simply the extraordinary product of two tall
individuals.
I was healthy, but incredibly shy
as a child and into my teens. I’m from a small town, and I grew up and
graduated with the same 50 people. I started playing basketball in third grade
every Saturday, but I didn’t have any control over my awkward, gangly body. (I
didn’t even score a point in a game until many years later.) I was 5-foot-10 in
fourth grade. I had a small group of friends in elementary school, but
sometimes the boys picked on me, calling me a bean pole or the Jolly Green
Giant. I still remember my embarrassment when they taunted me, and how badly I
wanted to be invisible.
In high school I got more
involved in sports, but I spent most days in the art room. By this time
everyone at my school was used to my height (by ninth grade I was 6-foot-3),
but if I went out of town people would gawk and comment about my appearance.
They acted like I couldn’t hear them.
“Wow! That girl is tall!”
“Oh my gosh! Look at that girl,
she’s so tall.”
I was forced into the spotlight
wherever I went.
With high school came more
confidence. I had success in school, the arts and sports. I played basketball,
but my true passion was track and field. My senior year I was the conference
champion in high jump and the 400-meter run. The friendships I gained through
my involvement in high school boosted my confidence and helped me develop a
sense of humor. Now when a stranger told me I was tall I would smile and nod
or, if I was feeling feisty, I would feign shock and thank them profusely for
telling me. I had no idea!
Still, society keeps me aware of
my status as a rarity. The retail industry doesn’t exactly cater to a woman
with a 37-inch inseam and size 14 feet. I never dated, let alone kissed a guy
until I was in college. And even though people tell me I’m beautiful and I
should be a model, there are times when I would trade in my long legs for a
petite frame and tiny feet.
I often wish people weren’t so
rude. How can they act so unabashedly shocked when they see someone who is
different from them? And I’ve got it easy; I’m a minority only in the sense of
height. I can only imagine how those under the burden of a group prejudice
based on their race or religion must feel. I like to think that those who have
insulted me didn’t intend to. I do believe that most people are basically good,
but they can be insensitive.
I have come to learn that my
height can be used to my advantage. I’ll be graduating from college with a
journalism degree soon, and when I stand up and ask a question, people listen.
I’m a pretty decent high jumper, I can reach things on tall shelves, and I have
a conversation starter for every occasion.
Being a tall woman was hard for
me growing up. But in the end, I think it has made me a stronger individual.
I’ve grown into my body, and I try my best to wear all 76 inches of my height
with pride, and take the awkward comments and stares with poise.
In fact, sometimes I wear heels.
Just to make them look twice. |
