This is another post from 2008. My daughter is now 13 years old and 5'8" tall herself.
One day, a while back now, I was making a quick stop at a store during the work day. As I was checking out, the cashier said “You’re tall.” No kidding, I was thinking. I am nearly six feet tall barefoot, and wear heels all the time. Then she asked The Question: “Do you like being tall?”
My first thought was what kind of question is that? What does she expect me to say? It’s not like I could change my height if I didn’t like it. I don’t even remember what I said to her as I hurried out of the store. It did make me think, though.
Would I change my height if I was able? I have days (more than I care to admit) that I would love to be a petite, tiny woman who wears a size 2 or 4. I would love to have darker skin (instead of my Scandinavian skin that will never ever tan. Ever.) and dark brown or black hair. I’d love to be able to wear red lipstick and dark eye makeup without looking horrid. I would love to NOT be the person everyone called when they can’t reach something. And I would LOVE to be able to buy any pair of pants and know they will be long enough. I am tired of being man-sized. I want to be tiny, fragile, feminine.
But in reality, I am happy with my height. I can find people in a crowd, I can be found in a crowd, I’m easy to describe if I ever get lost (have to find humour somewhere!), and darn it, if I want something off the top shelf of the cabinet, I can get it myself! I have a husband who is taller than me, and a daughter who is quickly catching up to me. I am trying to have a positive outlook on being tall, because at 5’2” and ten years old, she is destined for the same. I hope I am raising her to be confident and proud of her height, not self-conscious like I was at her age. And I hope all the strangers who think it’s fine to make silly remarks about it grow up themselves.
And by the way, I avoided that cashier from then on.