I am 6 feet 4 inches tall, making me a solid 6 inches taller than the average U.S. man. While I appreciate the benefits of my height (the weather is way nicer up here), there are a lot of things that kind of suck about being vertically gifted.
1. Yes, we know we’re tall.
For whatever reason, height is the only physical feature that is socially acceptable to shout out when you meet someone. If I met someone and shouted, “You’re blonde!” or “You’re Asian!” everyone would avert their eyes and make a mental note to never speak to me.
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2. Showers aren’t very relaxing.
Unless you find craning your neck, like a giraffe drinking, enjoyable. At least my chest is well rinsed.
3. Benefits to height drop off at a certain point.
I know there are all of those sociological benefits tall people supposedly have (higher pay, higher IQ etc.), but at a certain point, “tall, dark and handsome” becomes “That circus performer looks lost. Should we call the police?” Maybe tall goes well with confident and assertive, but otherwise you're just a gawky (literal) elephant in the room. Plus I can't go on some roller coasters.
4. We can’t go to a show without a guilt complex.
When I’m seeing a band, I can’t help but feel for the people stuck behind me. I would be pissed too if I paid 50 bucks to see the back of the Elephant Man’s neck instead of my favorite band. Of course, I’m not going to get out of the way. I have accepted my identity as a human periscope. But I still feel bad.
5. People somehow think it’s OK to ride on our backs.
I was seeing the Front Bottoms last October with some friends. Toward the end, this girl came up to me and shouted, “Put me up on your shoulders!” at me. I declined. Call me a prude, but I want to at least have had a conversation with someone before their thighs are wrapped around my head. “Why not?” she indignantly shouted, as if I were a disobedient ladder. Not cool, short girl.
6. Airplanes are flying hell tubes.
My head hits the ceiling, my shoulders touch the seats and, if I’m lucky, I’ll get an inch of buffer zone between my knees and the seat in front of me. If you’re ever in front of me on a plane and decide to recline your seat, I will actively pray for the plane to crash into a mountain, because at least that would be over quickly.
7. Ceiling fans are legitimately terrifying.
I would like at least a foot of clearance between my scalp and those spinning death blades, thanks.
8. We are drafted into service at any retail store.
I’m not going to say no to someone who asks for some help, but maybe bring a footstool next time you go grocery shopping. Or ask an employee. Does it look like I’m wearing a name tag?
9. Buying clothes is a nightmare.
I don’t think I’ve ever owned a shirt with sleeves that actually fit correctly. And they straight up don’t sell our shoe sizes. Once I was looking for boots at a Dress Shoe Warehouse (don’t judge, Connecticut doesn’t have too many options when it comes to footwear). I walked in and asked an employee if they had any size fourteen shoes. He looked me as if I were ordering pancakes. He said that he could order some online for me. Yeah, and so can anyone with arms and Internet access.
10. We will die a horrible painful death (statistically).
Cancer. Strokes. Heart attacks. If you’ve ever had to awkwardly crouch to get in on a photo with your friends, you’re looking at a much higher risk factor for a lot of bad shit. At least that stuff will kill you; chronic back and neck pain just hangs around forever because I guess only some parts of your body got the memo about the “freakishly tall” thing.
But at least we don’t get lost in crowds, I guess.
