I hate myself.
Wait, let me clarify that. I hate things about myself. Mostly the large things, like my thighs and my waistline.
I hate that stores don’t stock shoes in size 11, how I can’t find a decent sports bra, or that shopping for eyeglasses involves me telling the sales clerk that she needs to show me the frames for pumpkin-headed people.
I hate not being able to cross my legs under a table, having no room in airplanes, or that the seat in my car doesn’t go back far enough for my liking. Also, long-sleeved shirts that look more like 3/4 length.
And, for crying out loud, my earlobes.
Of course this is just the way I was made and I wouldn’t be me without resembling a giant – I’d certainly have a lot less fodder for this blog, that’s for sure. Just once, though, I’d like to wear heels without towering over everyone.
Sure there are benefits; like being able to reach the tall shelf without a stool and never having to worry about someone blocking your view. That’s about it. Being a big girl ain’t easy.
Palming a basketball, however? Piece of cake.
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Mama D
Right there with you down to the size-11 feet!
Melisa
Don’t be downin’! 😉
(But I get it.)
Alexandra
You know what? I have always wanted, always, to be 4 inches taller, and a good strong 30 pounds heavier. I have always dreamed of coming back one day, next life, next life, however long I have to wait, to be a “big girl.”
Big girls get respect and command presence, yo.
Shannon
Sending you a virtual high five. Especially on the shoe front. Size 12 here. I try on shoes via the UPS man.
Amie
We should go to the grocery store together…you could get stuff off the high shelves for me, and we could both bitch about how they keep moving things around every other day.
Heather A
Uck, I feel ya. I’m the shortest in my own family, but the tallest by far amongst my in-laws (including my husband). My brother in law calls me Gigantor, Jolly Green Giant, Hulk Smash, etc. etc. I blow it off, but after a while it gets to me…
MidLyfeMama
I feel this. I am not tall, I am short, and I generally feel I am one red cone shaped hat away from being a garden gnome. I haven’t been able to comfortably cross my legs in years because of back and hip issues, but I am comforted by the fact that is actually healthier for us not to. Take that all you uber bendy people. I have been trying to practice being grateful for my soft squishy curves that make my son happy to cuddle with me, and remind myself that my husband seems to find me attractive even though I bear little resemblance to his internet girlfriend Jessica Alba. We get what we get and we don’t get upset, right? Right. I would still love to have a flat tummy, but I like bagels so whatever.