In 4th grade, I was taller than my teacher. She was normal human size. I was way off the chart. I was the opposite of Honey I Shrunk The Kids. I was Honey I Dropped the Kid in Supersonic Waste, and Now She Won’t Stop Growing.
In 6th grade, despite being gargantuan woman, I loved wearing heels. They made me feel older —more sophisticated. I’d hear the click clack click as I walked down the hallways, and I thought that was the sound of success.
Until, the majority of kids at school starting to make fun of me:
“Why are you wearing heels? You’re tall enough already.”
I stopped wearing them. I started to hunch. I wanted to be smaller. I perfected the art of appearing smaller. I’d slump in my seat. I didn’t want to be tall anymore. I wanted to be tiny. I wanted to disappear into the sea of normal people.
It wasn’t until college that I started to enjoy my height again. Between the acting, movement, and voice classes, my professors kept encouraging me to own my height. It wasn’t just about “standing up straight.” It wasn’t rigid. It was about rediscovering my confidence. It was encouraging me to grow bit by bit — like a flower returning to the sunshine.
“I am who I am.
I have nothing to prove.
I have a right to be here. “
There’s nothing I can do about being tall besides embrace it.
Who can reach that can of soup on the top shelf? Me!
Who’s tall enough to ride this roller coaster? Me!
Who’s buying these 4” heels and daring anyone to say anything about it? Me! Those shoes are cute, and I can’t hear your insults from up here.
You only get one body in this life. One vehicle to propel you toward your aspirations. You can get out and kick the fender when it stops acting normal or you can enjoy its imperfections. It’s how you get to where you’re going. You can’t let other’s negativity and comments slow you down. Love your body for how it is. Even further, love yourself for being you.