I, being taller than the average bear, hate this supposed blessing to my body. The only use for my excess of height since I was a ten-year-old little boy playing on a community basketball team, was when I was on the high school swim team. Diving into a pool as a six foot six freshmen really helped me breeze through laps, considering as soon as I entered the pool I was already halfway done. Since I quit the team due to a severe case of laziness, my height has helped me in exactly zero situations. I do not play sports, due to my diagnosed laziness, and other than that, height has no purpose other than to be a landmark for your friends when in large crowds.
There are a few perks of being a tall boy. I have never been in a fight because of my height, which in my book is a definite plus. If someone wants to fight me two things go through their head. This man is huge, not worth it. This boy doesn’t need me to knock him down anymore. He looks like he’s at rock bottom as it is.
Another perk to being tall is being able to trip over the smoothest of surfaces. Did I say a perk? I meant another awful thing that comes with having giant figures. A number of times I have been walking on a tile floor in a Wal-Mart or Target and still trip on the ground could set a world record. It’s such a long trip to send a message from my brain to my feet, that sometimes my brain quits and lets my legs figure themselves out. Because my brain is a quitter, my legs panic and stumbles over themselves, which then leads to me falling like a building under demolition.
Being tall also leads to long limbs, which is great for things like reaching shelves that are too high for most people. An unfortunate risk of having, as I like to call it, long noodle arm syndrome, is that sometimes while I walk, my arm swing may or may not cause me to accidentally touch people’s butts. Some people would think this gives me a great excuse to touch all the booty, but I do not want that when I am trying to walk to an early class and grab a large man’s butt. Another risk is accidental hand holding. It’s awkward to walk to class then realize you accidentally grabbed someone’s hand, then becomes more awkward when your hand is sweaty, making it obvious you had been holding hands for far too long.
These problems aren’t that bad, to be honest. The worst are people exclaiming the obvious, such as “Wow you’re tall!” My response to this is always:
No sh*t. As if for NINETEEN YEARS I would have NEVER figured out that I am tall. What could have the signs for me been? Maybe when I go out and can see over every person’s head, or when I hold hands with a significant other, I must slightly hunch to the side to grab their hand. Or maybe, it’s the ceaseless remarks of “You’re so tall!!”
I know ya’ dingus. I know.
