Heat rises.
Some guy already ruined my new shoe fun by smartly expressing, “Dang you’re tall.”
Ugh/Grr.
Dude. Whatever. I always respond with, “yes, I am tall. Thanks!” as if they meant to compliment me. BEING TALL IS NOT A BAD THING. Embrace it, Sammy. Also? Embrace being extra tall in 4” heels. I LOVE IT.
This is among one of my greatest pet peeves, and I have a lot of pet peeves so you know it’s bad if it’s at the top.
First, being a tall woman is not some kind of freakish genetic mutation and men who treat as such need to be addressed. Frankly, I think men who need to express displeasure at a tall woman to feel better about their Tom Cruise-like proportions are a genetic mutation, but because I’m a kind and polite human being, I don’t gawk at some 5’2”-er in the elevator and exclaim, “Good god, you’re short! No leafy greens as a youngster?”
But, for some reason, men feel a strange need to address my height in a similar fashion. I hear all sorts of doozies:
- “Do you play volleyball? No? Because we need a woman on our team to stay in our league.”
- “Your parents must have fed you well!”
- “Damn girl, you have got some long legs…” (Or variations thereof)
- “Why are you wearing heels? You’re already tall.”
- “How do you get any oxygen up there? Har har.”
And more and more of the same.
Just because I won the genetic lottery and ended up with, yes, long legs that look very nice in heels, thank you very much, does not justify a need on your part to try and get an explanation out of me. Do you want me to fall down on the ground and ask God, why, why me? Why did he make me as tall as I am..and as a woman?! Oh, blasphemy! Oh, sweet redemption!
I’m a tall woman. I’ve got long legs. I dated a guy shorter than me who had no problems with it. I married a man taller than me. I don’t have problems with short men unless they have problems with me, and then I simply step on them and solve the problem.
