I am and always have been vertically above average. Sticking out like a goldenrod among the daffodils, I grew like a weed until I reached 6 feet. This is important because I wouldn’t be me if I was not tall. There are advantages and disadvantages to any noticeable physical appearance, and I certainly didn’t get the short end of the stick when it comes to my height.

I was destined for nicknames like Giraffe and Tree and buying pants that fit my marginally lanky frame is no easy task. But beyond occasionally getting my hair stuck on low hanging branches and my knees hitting the back of the seat in compact cars, being tall is not the worst cross to bear.

I turn heads when I walk into a room, and once there I am probably one of the tallest people in the room. This makes me extremely memorable, even if it is only because I towered over you and made you feel inferior, there’s a good chance you won’t forget the “tall girl”. I can gain 10 pounds and no one will notice, coincidentally I can also lose 10 pounds to the same regard. I get asked if I am a model just enough to boost my ego and give me the confidence to walk around with my head held that much high-er.

It wasn’t always like this though, I struggled for the majority of my life. Wanting to fit in with the 5’6″ females of the world. Not wanting to stand out, being forced to the outskirts of conversation as the shorter people clustered together. Standing in the back of the crowd, fading into the background. But I persevered and now can’t imagine a life lived in a body other than the svelte, model-esque one that I can thank my 6’4″ and 5’8″ parents for.

There is however one obstacle, that while not present for all female six-footers, has been an ever-present hurdle in my life, dating. I like a man to be taller than me, I also like to wear my favorite boots with a 2 inch heel. I truly believe I’d have had a lot more than 2 boyfriends by now, more dates especially in my teens and early twenties, and a more traditional relationship with men in general if I wasn’t taller than so many of them. I automatically rule out men shorter than 6 feet because I am simply not attracted to them. Even 6’1″ and 6’2″ are cause for contemplation. I like to feel feminine when I stand beside my date as if I am small and petite and I want him to be strong enough to pick my up and toss me around like the sprite of a woman I am inside.

I am experiencing the world on a different level. Seeing the tops of balding heads, reaching high shelves with ease, prompting predictable inquiries from curious strangers, and wondering what life would be like as average-size person. But I’ve never wanted to be average, so it only makes sense that my height should be above it.