In middle school, I was the starting center on our basketball team even though I could barely dribble. Why? In the 98th percentile for height at that age, all I had to do was throw my hands up and I could block most shots. Sticking out at that age (quite literally) was less than desirable. Gangly and quiet, I was not happy to be 5’9” at the beginning of high school. It wasn’t until I was a senior in college that I began liking “the weather up here.” What changed?
Boys and Burberrys
One of the things that made me the shyest about my height was towering over men, but then I dated a guy who I could have easily picked up (an oh-wow-is-that-your-son kind of short). When no one made fun of me for this, I was shocked. Floored, really. I expected there to be dominatrix jokes and pointing on the street. When nothing happened, I realized others didn’t care if I dated someone shorter than me. However, I couldn’t shake the feeling that the guy minded when I looked over him in a crowd.
Then, without even realizing it, I dated a guy shorter than me again. When he mentioned that I was obscenely taller in my five-inch heels, I laughed nervously and told him I didn’t mind. A wave of relief crossed his face that made me realize that men want to ignore that I’m taller than them just as much I do. Once I confirmed that I was the only person putting the stress on my height, I’ve barely worn flats since.
Self-Acceptance
From then on out, I conscientiously made an effort not to worry about what others could be thinking when I clicked down school halls in heels. Crouching down to fit in with my friends for a going-out photo, they usually would jokingly complain that I was overshadowing them in my heels. No more! After all, if you can’t support me like below then we shouldn’t be friends!