I Used to Say I was 5'12"

cartoon obtained from CartoonStock.com
I never really think about how tall I am until it is brought to my attention. In fact, I pretty much forget that I literally tower above most of the adult population. I am six inches taller than the average woman, and two inches taller than the average man. At six feet (barefoot), I am one tall woman. My view of the world is just that—my view.

As a pre-teen and teenager, being tall was torture. The boys in my class didn't catch up to my height until late in high school, if they caught up at all. A growth spurt here or there definitely made the class photos less awkward, but overall, I found myself in the back row of every group photo, all team pictures and every single other setting where masses were lined up for one reason or another. Yes, it was good for basketball and tennis and other such things, but it was more challenging than it was worth back then.

I was always treated as if I was older than my age. My height indicated a sense of maturity that I may or may not have had at that particular age. One memory is when I was about 12, and my mom took me to the bank to open my first checking account, and the banker asked me for my driver's license and work phone number. Always a smart alec, I said, "Oh, you mean the phone number of the family I babysit for?" He didn't laugh.

The benefits, as an adult, of a tall stature are quite clear in a business setting. In a meeting, particularly when we greet at the door of the conference room, all standing up, I am immediately given a sense of respect that is almost tangible, especially by men. It is fascinating to watch their faces register my height. And, almost always, the men slyly look down at the floor. I used to tell myself (knowing it was false) that they were checking out my legs. Yeah, no. They were inevitably looking at my feet to determine if I was really that tall, or if I was sporting some really thick heels.

Today on the bus was no exception. With it being summer and all, my employer creates a casual environment, and practically encourages us to wear flip flops or other summer sandals. Hence, no heels. I was in flip flops this morning, and I saw not one, but two men look down at my shoes to assess if this height thing was natural, or provided by Nordstrom's shoe department.

It has come in handy more times than I can recall. Being tall makes a crowd more manageable, and I can always see the stage, the movie screen, the sign or the event up ahead. I am spared the sense of crowd claustrophobia that my more vertically challenged friends are impaired with. I, at six feet, can breathe. The air up here is nice, yes.

Living with other people, namely my five-foot friend Jill, we experienced the pleasure of having both ends of the height spectrum covered. When we unloaded the dishwasher, for example, she put away all the pots and pans down low, and I took care of the glasses and dishes up high. I could easily store our liquor bottles and cook books up in the hardly usable above-the-fridge cabinet that kitchen designers love to install. Our walk-in pantry was easily divided between the two of us—I took the top four shelves, and Jill took the bottom four. Cohabitation made easy, I say.

Jill and I also leveraged our varying heights to our costumed advantage one Halloween. Several years ago, upon receiving an invite to an annual party where the best costume was awarded a cash prize, I walked into the costume shop with no ideas of what we should be.

First, I spotted an orange mesh vest. Then I saw a police officer hat, and a blue camp shirt. Immediately, the idea took shape in my brain. I'll be the crossing guard, and Jill can be the small child I'm escorting across the street! Jill found her costume for about $11 at Target in the kid's department, and was soon outfitted in a baby blue Hello Kitty rain coat, pink light-up tennis shoes, a plastic backpack and pigtails with bows. I sported the vest and an official looking blue outfit, with reflective tape down the legs of the pants, and fashioned a stop sign out of construction paper and a paint stick. Donning the white gloves and the whistle, I knew we were ready for action.

We walked into the bar where the party was being held, and the bouncer stopped Jill and didn't want to let her in. She'd gone soft on the makeup that night to fully invest in her costume, and the none-too-pleased bouncer thought she was underage. Severely underage. Ok, let's be frank. She looked about nine years old. He eventually looked at her driver's license so long he gave up and let her in. Good thing he did! We proceeded to do "promotional walks" through the party, with me holding up my stop sign, and Jill holding my gloved hand, and we attracted some serious attention. And, promptly won the $100 cash prize for best costume. Our contrasting heights certainly were an advantage! Evidence below, and please excuse the poor quality—my reflective vest was throwing off the flash.

Halloween 2004
Shopping is practically a sport for me, but I must admit that it isn't as simple as you'd think. Everyone thinks that clothes are made for tall women. Maybe tall as defined at 5'8" with a tiny waistline and no hips or booty. At age 17.

But, the real truth is that every single pair of pants/jeans I've ever bought have had to be altered, taking the hem out as far as it will go. My drycleaners/tailor now says to me when I plop a new pair in front of her, "Hem down?" before I've even said hello. At least the shorter-legged women can always hem something up—you can't make more fabric. Often, I have to just pass on a great looking pair of pants, because I just know that after one wearing/washing, they'll be too short and I'll look as if I'm waiting for the flood. Which, incidentally, I'm not.

Dating as a tall woman has not always been so easy, either. Girls would always say to me, "Oh, I have this great guy for you." My first question, sadly, was not fetching for information about his intelligence, drive, passion, sense of humor, or even his looks. It was, "Is he tall?" And, my short friends can attest, my second question was usually, "I mean, taller than you is one thing. Is he taller than me?"

Because I never could get over that feeling of towering over (even if only by an inch or so) the guy with whom I was linked arms. I didn't like the feeling of being "bigger" than him. Even if he had me by 50 pounds, I still felt like an Amazon woman on the arm of a shorty. I know, I know. Beggars can't be choosers. And so I did relent, and go out with a few men who were shorter than I. And I regretted it every time as we walked down the sidewalk together and people stared. Yes they did. I know what you're thinking—that it was all in my head. Well, maybe, but that's enough reason for me.

As a tall woman, I know this much is true. When asked to be a bridesmaid, which I've done many many times, I'm guaranteed to be the one at the end of the row at the front of the church. I'll be in the back of the group photo, and you'll pretty much only see my head. I'll be the first to enter the church, and the last pair to exit, hopefully on the arm of a groomsman who is also vertically blessed. Otherwise, we just look plain silly. I'll also have had to dole out an additional $50 for "extra fabric" to get the dress to attempt to cover my painful bridesmaid shoes. Exhibit A is below. See the shoes? Yeah, you shouldn't. And the beautiful bride Anna is one of my TALL friends!

With Anna & Kelley in 2007
Height requires a level of self-confidence to carry off, and only as I crossed over into my thirties do I truly realize the benefits of, and difficulty of, bearing it. I walk into a room and people notice me, even if that wasn't my goal. There is no "hiding in the background" or "blending in." I know I need to, and am getting better at, throwing back my shoulders and carrying my height with pride. I'm learning.

It doesn't hurt that I am quite happy in a relationship with a man who is well over six feet tall. I can wear heels! And feel ladylike! And small! And dainty! Ok. Not quite dainty. That was a stretch. But, we fit.

Ultimately, I blame my parents. My dad is a hefty 6'4" and my mom used to be considered quite statuesque at 5'8 1/2", but in our family, my mom is now the shrimp. My sister is just shy of me at about 5'10" and she wears her height well. Ultimately, our family portraits are always taken with a tripod that is tilted WAY up. At least we don't always wear costumes for them.

St. Louis circa 1983
I was born early and was considered a preemie, but apparently I've caught up. Life is good up here, if you can get used to the shoe-inspection, first-bridesmaid-in, dating-challenged, pant-altering life.

At the height of the moment, I guess it doesn't really matter that much, but being tall sure has defined me in a lot of ways.