~You know what’s annoying?
“Wow, you’re so tall!”
“You make me feel really short.”
“I wish I was as tall as you.”
“You’re really tall.”
~Whoa, seriously? I didn’t notice! Gee whiz!
~Most of you know that I am more… vertically substantial than other people. As lacking as I am in ligament health and black hair, I can safely say that I do not lack height. I’m pretty confident in that fact.
~So why is it that every single person I meet needs to tell me that I’m tall? I do, in fact, use mirrors, folks. I’ve tried to buy jeans. And I have never been turned down at a rollercoaster.
~But seriously. Why do you feel the need to tell me over and over? It’s ridiculous! Imagine the following conversations, and tell me they’re ridiculous. (These conversations are between people from the stranger to cordial acquaintance range.)
“You’re fat.” *bitchslap*
“You have blue eyes.” “Yep.” “They’re sky colored.” “Yeah, I’m gonna go now…”
“You’re in a wheelchair.” “I was in a car accident three years ago… I lost both my parents…” “Can I get on and do a wheelie?”
~In other situations, stating the obvious would be socially unacceptable. (See situations 1 and 3.) But when you’re tall, your teachers, hairdressers, asian nail salon-ists, and grocery store checkers all have to tell you. (On a side note, why do grocery store checkers all act like they know you? Like, “Hey! I love your new haircut. Getting skim milk this time, huh? Probably for better, too… you could use less fat in your diet.” Really creepy. Back to the post at hand.)
~But anyway. Another similar complaint: whenever I wear a dress or a skirt, somebody always asks me (in a nasally tone, obviously), “Why are you so dressed up?”
~Gee, I dunno. Maybe I just felt like looking female today, hm? (And by the way, Emily Hartung, sundresses are not dressy!)
Gosh. You’re really tall.
Sexxy legs!!!