Subway

Yesterday, I thought:

"One thing I love about this city is that there are always people who look 'odder' than me. Who are you gonna stare at- the tall girl or the herd of tourists on a Segway tour?"

I almost 'tweeted' this as I walked to Subway for lunch, (free advertising for flatbread! yum!) but decided to save my iPhone data bytes and forgot about it. But in the 10 minute trip from my office, to Subway then back to my office, 5 PEOPLE ASKED ME HOW TALL I WAS.

karma for my arrogance? clearly i'm the most interesting oddball out there.

Finally

The streak is broken: A man today asked me how tall i was. I think i jinxed it with my post yesterday.

But anyway, I think he was only asking because he needed a way to get close to my car to wash my windshield while i pumped my gas. I hate this, because I'm sure that I make less money than he does, and i have to pay for something i don't want (my wipers do just fine).

But here's the kicker, he said to me,

"What are you, 5'9 or 5'10?"

Needless to say, I tipped him.

Nicen-Up Chicago

My Nicen-Up Chicago Action Plan.

My ideas for a non-profit organization dedicated to making the city a friendlier place to live. This is the code by which we should live by. If successful, we will wave this in the face of New Yorkers (who are not nice) and all cities in Texas (who brag about being nice).

• If anyone lets you into their lane of traffic, you MUST do the little wave. It can be a simple one-two wave, to the beat of “thank-you,” but it must be visible. Out the window is a plus, wiggling fingers preferred. (Salutes acceptable)
• Smiling at complete strangers is required after eye contact, saying hello is optional. This is no longer simply a way to pick up chicks/dudes. Although, this is still encouraged.
• If you're really dedicated, say hello to everyone you see. At first, people may mistake you for a crazy murderer, but it will pay off eventually. Here's a great reader’s digest (don’t judge me) article about what happens if you do: http://www.rd.com/living-healthy/what-if-you-said-hello-to-everyone-in-your-path-for-a-month/article107782.html
• Tip well. Treat your waiter/waitress as your friend, not your indentured servant or subordinate. Also, stick a please on the beginning of your order, and a thank you at the end.
• [For waiters, instead of spitting in it, sprinkle a little home-made love into soup]
• Pretend that workers (construction, maintenance, retail) are people. Oh wait. They are. Be friendly and ask them [genuinely] how they're doing.
• If someone does something nice for you, pay it forward.
• Reserve honking for very serious situations. These include someone has almost killed you, hit a pedestrian, or cut you off so terribly that you have to get out and check to see if your bumper is still attached.
• Do random acts of kindness, like baking your garbageman and mailman Christmas cookies. Don't poison them if you are unhappy with said man.
• Meet your neighbors.
• Hold open doors.
• Smile at babies and things on leashes. (my neighbor has a cat on a leash, so I'm not discriminating)

If you have any more ideas, let me know. We’ll write up something for the mayor.

The Big City

I recently moved to the big city (Chicago), and somehow, SOME WAY, not one person has asked me how tall I am. I realized this today, and was pleasantly shocked. When I lived in rural Indiana, someone asked me this question every time I showed my face in public.

So, what factors are at work here? It could be that:

1) people are much less friendly here. I hate this about cities and make it a point to be obnoxiously nice to anyone who holds a door open for me/serves me food/glances in my general direction.

2) people don't notice my height. (not likely: the times I look tallest are when i am standing in a crowd and my head sticks out like a ping pong ball in a punchbowl)

3) i am shrinking? (it's true, i haven't been measured recently. only the doctors office this summer where the "incident" occured: http://ahigherpointofview.blogspot.com/2010/09/today-at-doctors-office-nurse-just.html)

4) i can't remember what 4 is

All signs point to #1. I think this means that instead of finding a real job, I will start a non-profit called, "Nicen-Up Chicago." Stay tuned for my action plan.

Feet

You'd think that people who notice my height would always look straight up at my head, measure me up, and get over it. "You TALL!" they'd say, and then keep moseying down the sidewalk.

But usually, they look at my head and then down at my feet. Huh? I'm hypothesizing as to why this happens:

- To see if I'm wearing heels (to explain how i could possible be so enormous)

- To see what size shoe I wear (to explain how i possibly stay standing)

When I wear flat shoes, they look back at me with wide eyes. Yep, I'm tall. But here's the kicker- usually, If I'm wearing heels, they look away and figure that that's why I'm so tall.

So here's my idea- if I always wear heels, will people just say "ah, that's why she's so tall," and leave me alone? Doubtful. But it's a thought.

Rummage

I've been volunteering at a local rummage sale, and this was the prime place to be asked about my height. Something about the over-40 crowd leads them to believe that they have authority to ask.

And only rarely does it bother me, but this encounter left me with a bad taste in my mouth.

Woman: "OH MY GOD. How tall are you? holy cow!"

Me: "Haha. I'm almost 6'2"

Woman: "No way. You are WAY taller than that."

I was speechless. What was she thinking? Was she saying that I was LYING? i NEVER lie! I wish that I had said:

Me: "REALLY? Lady, you are wearing all denim. Leave me alone."

ALL NEW.

I'm moving through all realms of digital media. Hello twitter, I'm tall.

http://twitter.com/DiaryOfTallGirl

Growing Up Tall

I was telling my coworkers the other day how, as a kid, people thought I was much older, but extremely dumb for my age. (because I was huge.)

People expected me to be reading books and writing novels and studying molecular biology when I was still learning to talk. Maybe that's an exaggeration, but people figured I was just... slow for my age, because I looked older than i was.

2nd Grade. Guess who's on the left.

a shorter Higher Point of View

I shrank my video to fit in one part- It's the same masterpiece (HAH!) with a little less academic jargon.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EXP2OAybI78

Doctor's Office

Today, at the doctor's office, the nurse just announced to the entire office that I was the tallest patient she had ever measured. She then proceeded to ask me about my basketball career.

[side note: i was dressed cute. so much for my hypothesis.]

Yesterday, an old couple on a bench watched me walk by. I heard:

"My, oh my, that was the tallest girl I've ever seen in my life..."

I'm happy to entertain, people.

Next week, maybe i'll juggle as I walk or balance a beach ball on my nose. Now THAT would be interesting.

A Higher Point of View: The Secret Diary of a Tall Girl

Here it is, folks. The moment you've been waiting for.

This is my final video project about the life and times of a tall girl, and what we face every day. Unfortunately, it's widescreen although it's not meant to be. So, I look a little... wide. But you get the idea.

Enjoy!

Part 1: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ybI6mLm2hyk

Part 2: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1Qhlj-KGz3Y

kids.

Today, a child looked up at me from her grandmas arms and yelled "TALL!" in the middle of Loft today.

This is not the first time this has happened to me.

kids.

Big Steps Shoes

If you have big feet, male or female, stop by Kalamazoo Michigan's "Big Steps Shoes" to have all your dreams come true. I got a pair of Steve Madden leather boots, rain boots, and adorable pink flats. Here, you can see how overjoyed I am:

They even have one of Shaq's shoes at the store. They start at size 10 for women and size 11 for men! (I'm a 12, and the store owner laughed and said that I have "small" feet. I wanted to slip him a twenty for that comment, but I refrained.)

go there! it will change your life. or at least make you feel normal.

http://www.bigstepsshoes.com/

A Trick.

Alright, as some of you know, I've recently changed my wardrobe from "t'shirt chic," to what some might call "women's clothes." I had to quit dressing like a middle schooler, and start dressing, well, nice.

But with this change, I have discovered something quite noteworthy: If you are a tall girl, and you hate being asked if you play basketball, QUIT DRESSING LIKE A BASKETBALL PLAYER. Who'd have thought.

This summer, I never wore a t'shirt and gym shorts out of the house. But no one asked me if I played basketball. NONE. It was an all-out miracle.

But last week, on the way home, I wore a t'shirt that said TCU (Texas Christian University, My sister's school) in the car. (An unfortunate side note is that dad came down to breakfast late, wearing the exact same shirt as me. Neither of us had time to change.)

And of course, the ONE TIME i wear a t'shirt, an old man asked me if I played basketball. Dang.

But, I learned my lesson: Dress up, and people will think you're a model. Dress like you're a basketball player, and guess what. People will think you're a basketball player.

Got Pants?

pants for everyone! 37 inch inseams. yes.

www.alloy.com

Post Secret

This was on Post Secret last week and it made me laugh/smile.

(If you haven't read PostSecret before, people send anonymous postcards to this website, and they scan and post like 25 new ones each week. They are interesting, sometimes embarassing, often questionable, and sometimes hilarious)

Dear Tall Fans,

I have put all of my tall energy into 2 projects this semester, and have subsequently ignored a higher point of view.

The first is my final seminar video, a 20 minute mini documentary on life as a tall girl. The second is a research paper identifying height variations and height potential of populations cross culturally.

As soon as I figure out how, i'll post the video.
As for the research paper, i'll do you a favor and keep it to myself.

Kristen

Tall Book

Alright, my book idea of the future has officially been stolen, completed, and published. shoot. I'm just a few years too late. Until I think of a new book idea, here's "The Tall Book: A Celebration of Life on High."

Today, my copy arrived, and I was disappointed to see that the author even made the book tall. That was MY idea. I'm going to need to get cracking some new writing ideas...

SNL

clip of my favorites Taylor Swift (5'11") and Kristen Wigg (5' something) for SNL.
I get this a lot.

SNL Tall Promo

Pants

For my senior seminar project, I'm doing a presentation about the perspective of a tall girl. I've taken an initiative to try on a pair of pants (not capris) when I go shopping, and get a photo of the length. Here are a couple of shots from the dressing rooms of TJ Maxx and JCrew.

Welcome to an evil place in the life of a tall girl: the dressing room.

My Friends

Me and some friends...
Guess which one's me.

Today's Basketball Conversation

(WAL-MART CHECKOUT LINE)

Cashier lady: Whew, you're tall!

Me: (fake laugh) I know.

Lady in Line next to me: Do you play ball? (Indiana speak for basketball)

Cashier: Yeah! Didja?

Me: No. Never did. I hate it.

Lady: You should have.

Me: (silence)

Chapstick

I am convinced that Chapstick just chaps your lips more. Think of people who use Chapstick regularly… They can’t stop. There’s always a stick in their pocket, their desk, or stuck in their pants like a holster.

Imagine being a Chapstick CEO. Why would you want it to work? If it worked, people will buy one tube of Chapstick that will last them for years. (ok 6 months, if you factor in that all Chapstick tubes will mysteriously vanish at some point in time).

So they make a product that causes more chapping. And voila, presto. You have yourself a society of addicts.

**I have yet to conduct similar experiments with burt’s bees (burt freaks me out) but I will say that any sort of Vaseline or Aquaphor will actually solve the chapping problem. How many people do you see carrying around those disgusting tubs of Vaseline? It must work.

An Avatar?

No, I don't play basketball.

Of all of the plagues faced by tall people (shoe and pants shopping aside), one of the most irritating is a question that is hurled at us everyday. It’s a question that everyone wonders, but only some dare to ask.

DO YOU PLAY BASKETBALL?

Almost every day, I’m slammed with this question. If you think I’m exaggerating, ask anyone who goes in public with me. For some reason, people without any self control or too much confidence just walk up and say it. Sometimes they yell it from afar. Sometimes they just yell, “basketball?”

But maybe I’m just bitter because, no. I don’t play basketball. Whenever I’m asked, I have to admit to my lack of coordination in high school, a sore subject for me. I tell them that I tried to learn, but never got the hang of it. Instead, I was on the swim team for four years, and was an active member of mock trial. (embarrassing?)

Some people are content with this answer. They’ll shrug they’re shoulders and smile up at me with pity, like I have a pegleg or a black eye. Then, they will just leave me alone. But others get riled up. Once, a guy said, “What a waste!” as he threw his hands straight up in the air and walked away without another word. Another offered to coach me for his league, and I swear that I could see tiny dollar signs in his eyes. But when I told him I was almost 21, he slammed his fist on the counter at Wal-Mart with a loud, “damnit!”

Some try to be sly about it. First they’ll ask if I’m a model to butter me up. (This is a load of bull because I weigh more than 105 lbs). Then they’ll drop the basketball bomb. Or if I’m with my 5-foot-8 sister, they’ll say, “do you girls play basketball?” but blatantly stare directly at me. (Note: my sister, Maggie, has never been asked when I’m not around).

For those who aren’t happy with the truth, I’ll sometimes tell them I quit basketball for volleyball. But I neglect to tell them that I played volleyball my freshman year and won the most improved award. And if you are unfamiliar with this particular award, it is a pity award reserved for the worst on the team. But luckily, I broke my leg falling down a hill the following summer, and was forced to ‘retire’ my volleyball ‘career.’

It’s always the same stare. I’d love to say that it’s my beauty or sparkling aura or something that causes a double take, but it’s not. It’s my size. The drill goes like this: Glance at me, look away. Stop moving feet, stop speaking, stop breathing. Look back at me. Look at my head, look at my feet. Tilt the head to see if I’m wearing heels. Eyes widen upon realization that I’m not. Look back up. Regain motor control. Move on with their lives. (Those who don’t move on are the ones who ask me if I play basketball.)

I’m looking forward to the age where I no longer look like an athlete. The only thing that can save me from this question is time, but in the meantime, I’m going to shrug it off. Maybe I’ll start telling people that I’m in the WNBA. Or, as a friend recently told me, I’ll answer their question like this:

Q: Do you play basketball?
A: No. Are you a horse jockey?

Or

Q: Do you play basketball?
A: No. Do you play mini golf?

Weird Places I have been asked if I played basketball

-In an alley
-Any cashier in any store I’ve ever been to
-Kroger parking lot (once, a man was too scared to ask me and asked my friend instead)
-Airport bathroom
-On a beach in St. Lucia
-Gas station bathrooms
-Walking by a park bench with two curious old ladies on it
-On top of a mountain in Australia