Tall Tale

I've been thinking lately (okay, for the last few minutes) about how I feel about being a tall woman. I'm five feet eight and a half inches tall - not tall enough to model or play basketball, but taller than the average chick. Being taller than most of my peers has never really vexed me. It's something I've grown to accept if not celebrate, and it's a big (sorry!) part of what makes me who I am. But, having said that, I'll admit to occasionally wishing I were a more "normal" height. I'd like to know what it feels like to disappear into a crowd if I want to. It's embarrassing to feel like I'm making an entrance simply by entering a room. Oh, and if I'm wearing heels when I enter said room, I feel like I'm making an entrance on stilts. Not good. Maybe if I were tall and curvy, I'd like being five feet eight and a half -- then I'd be statuesque. But I'm 120 pounds soaking wet and I can get away with not wearing a bra most days, so from a distance I look a little bit like a lanky male teenager -- especially when I wear jeans and a t-shirt, which is most days of the week any more. I'm not asking you to feel sorry for me (unless you want to) for being tall, but I just thought I'd let you know that it can be a drag at times. But I won't be offended if you shorter ladies and gents need me to get something for you off the top shelf in the library or grocery store. Not only am I tall, but I've got really long arms too. But then, that's another blog post...