I come from a family of tall people. When I think of them I’m reminded of legends of Ireland’s giants and the Giant’s Causeway. My family is full of the Finn MacCool type; feisty, crafty, ready to fight and manipulative. Not to mention red headed, fair skinned, green eyed and freckled. We’re Irish; I guess we fit the stereotype.
Even though I have my family’s Irish looks, I can’t, unfortunately, measure up to their vertical ascension. The tallest person in my family that I know of is 6’9”. My own father is 6’5” and not considered “tall” by the rest of the clan.
I have a cousin who’s 4 days younger than me; she was 6’3” when we were 17 and she was still growing.
I’m the shortest of the bunch thanks to the midget-like opposite gene that runs through my mother’s family. I stand at a grand total height, without slumping, 5’7”. Impressive huh?
Tall people fascinate me. If I could put myself in a shoe stretcher and stretch myself until I was over 6 feet tall I would. It’s odd though because people have always referred to me as being tall when I don’t consider myself tall at all. I think I just look taller than I really am.
I’m in love with very high heels and we have a wonderful working relationship. They make me taller and I promise not to ever throw them away; and I keep my promises. Thus my closet is full of shoes, some which haven’t been worn for years and some that haven’t been worn at all. What they share in common though, is that 99% of them are heels and are black.
My husband is short. I tease him about it a lot. He’s only an inch shorter than I am so that makes it somewhat ironic. Just look at how smug that one inch makes me. It gives me power, power I tell ya!
Because I have that one inch I can hide all the cookies in the top cabinets in the kitchen without using a chair and he never finds them. I also have the power to put his peanut butter up too high for him to reach. I hate peanut butter so it’s better this way.
There are some definite benefits to being tall. When you’re tall weight can be distributed throughout your body so that an extra 10 or 15 pounds never shows up. When you’re short your fat has nowhere to go but out.
Tall people don’t have to use chairs, stepstools or ladders to reach things. I admire that in a person. Who wants to drag a chair all over the place? Not me.
Tall people can see things going on around them that the rest of us can’t see. We have to suffer through viewing the backs of people’s heads at concerts and parades. Why can’t people move their big fat heads out of the way?
There are some drawbacks to being tall though. For instance, remember in the 80’s when long pants were hard to find? Even though I’m not one of the giants, I do have long legs and I specifically remember high water jeans with short crotches and waists. What a nightmare those were.
Tall people also don’t have much legroom in cars, especially cute little bitty cars. They have to hike their knees up until they collide with their foreheads and hope to god they don’t get stuck in traffic for hours on end.
I wish I was tall. I really do. But at least I’m not short I guess because I would get really pissed off about that song, “short people ain’t got no reason.”
Raunchy Taters 