I am six feet and two inches tall. At the age of ten I was about five foot eight. I hit six foot sometime in the chaos of middle school, and then another couple of inches decided to show up freshman year of high school. Bottom line? I’m tall. And I am here to inform the public on the travails I face, as a vertically blessed/cursed member of society. Which leads me to my first point:

1. “Wow, you’re so tall!”

There is not enough sass in the world for me to articulate my emotional response to this astute observation. It never fails to astound me that so many people feel the need to comment on my height. It’s as if, if they refrain from mentioning it, my somewhat larger skeleton becomes the elephant in the room. Someday, in my dearest dreams, someone will be able to tell me why this comment is so often the first thought on people’s lips. Not, “your hair’s so gorgeous!” or “your voice is really loud” or “you’re suffocatingly sarcastic.” Here I am just someone announcing that I am above the average height for an American woman or an American men and women across the globe. Actually, I’m 6 inches over the average height for Bosnia, which has the tallest women worldwide. So yes, I’m tall. But trust me, it’s a topic that’s been brought up before.

2. I’m a Tall girl, in a Short World…

America is not built for tall people. Legroom is an obvious issue, and mercifully is often taken into consideration when arranging seating on car rides. However, headroom is just as essential, as I have spent many a car ride with my head cricked at an angle as I attempt to slouch enough for my temple to no longer be rubbing up against the roof. Sadly, open ceilings aren’t much better. Bathroom stalls, for example, are amazingly awkward. Have you ever accidentally make eye contact in the mirror with a stranger as you tug on your pants? Not fun. Mirrors in general are a struggle, as they often give a great view of your torso and waist rather than your face (good luck finding a full length mirror). Then there’s school desks and chairs, which are often so short that I am almost sitting cross legged; that’s to avoid kicking/tripping classmates, because again, no legroom. Water fountains, on some occasions, are built below my waist level. It’s like doing yoga to get a drink when you’re wearing something too nice to kneel in. When visiting a short friend, you have to mentally prepare yourself for trying to shower using a shower head mounted below your shoulders (baths are simply not an option). Clothing’s another nuisance; I am so accustomed to cold wrists that, on the rare occasion I find a long-sleeved shirt, it feels foreign. Same with ankles, hence boots being my best friend.

Which brings us to:

3. “Tall girls shouldn’t wear heels!

People who say this shouldn’t have mouths. If I want be a ‘giraffe’, a ‘tree’, or a ‘giant’, or just plain ‘freaky tall’, then I have every right to do so. Somedays, I like impersonating skyscrapers. If I want to spend all night crouching to do literally everything, then that’s what I will do. I will tower above all as an Amazon goddess. Deal with it, tiny mortal.

4. “Can you reach-”

I think some people look at a tall person and see an automatic ladder. Anytime some type of decorating is happening, tall people either resign themselves to spending the entire night stretching as far as they can reach, or wise up and just leave. Similarly, I often provide shade, protection from the wind, and other basic functions of a shed.

As a pre-teen in grocery stores, I was often asked by men and women of all ages to help them grab some elusive item off of a shelf above their head. Sighing, I’d pluck it down for them. That’s the worst part; it’s impossible to say no to people asking to use your height. It’s like the beloved arachnid superhero’s dead uncle always says, “With great height, comes great responsibility”. We tall folks owe the occasional favor to the small folk. In fact, many of my friends are short (well, most humans are shorter than me, but some of them are really short!).

Which leads me to:

5. Me, My selfie, & You, in the Bottom Corner

Does anyone know how to photograph tall people and short people together? Because every group photo I’ve been in looks like a heart rate monitor: mostly flat with a huge spike in the middle. Group selfies usually find me in a low squat, attempting to level my heads with the rest of the group (even if I’m in the back). Hugs find me in a similar position, attempting to stay crouched long enough to bring my torso level with theirs. On occasion, however, I give up altogether and just let their head press into my chest. Yes, it’s awkward for both of us. There’s a reason I prefer side hugs.

If you’ve made it this far into my informative rant, I hope that above all, you remember that tall people are people too and for every ‘you must be great at basketball!’ there’s a dozen drawbacks. Still, don’t let these complaints fool you- at the end of the day, I wouldn’t give up an inch.