Five feet and eight inches. 172.72 centimeters. 0.0017272 kilometers. 0.0010732 miles. This is the distance from the crown of my head to my toes. Crazy, right? How dare I be five feet AND eight inches tall. That is four inches above the average height for females. FOUR WHOLE INCHES. I am honestly surprised people don’t check if I’m wearing stilts.

“Wow, you’re really tall.” I have received that comment from the same nurse at my doctor’s office on multiple occasions. It’s an opinion commonly expressed by her but shared by many. Honey, I got the message the first time. Sorry that you have trouble reaching the top shelf, but don’t take it out on me.

There is also this crazy perception that height comes with super powers. Unless you consider tripping over my own legs a super power, then I have yet to discover my special talent.  My tennis coach begged to differ. She repeatedly reminded me of my height and told me I had an advantage on the court. I guess I don’t have to work as hard because I stand a few inches higher above the ground than her. I think the real problem is that there is not enough fresh air getting to her head being so low to the ground. Without proper oxygen, the mind can start to hallucinate.

I dare not put on heels. I might transform into BFG or maybe King Kong (depending on my mood).  I might then even be taller than… wait for it… a man.  So, following the social rules, like any proper young lady should, I stick to flats. For prom I actually went on a hunt for “fancy sandals”. I found a few options, but I knew that no matter how many sparkles or how gorgeous the design, no pair of flats could compare to the beauty of a three-to-four-inch heel.

Now, with a little math, we can conclude that that would place me in the height range of 5’11 to 6’0. Basically, King Kong.

Regardless of my giant-ape status, I proceeded with my purchase of the stunning, strappy pieces of heaven because screw you and your social standards. Unless I was going to stand out in the prom pictures… then maybe I would abide by the social rules a little longer.

I made a compromise with the social gods: I decided to wear the heels but take them off during pictures. That way no one could TELL how tall I am. I would still tower above a majority of females and possibly some males at the dance, but my feet would be stylishly dressed in the process. That’s what was really important.

Prom was only one occasion of many where I struggled with this dilemma over heels, and more times than not the social gods squashed my rebellion.

“But what’s so bad about being tall? It’s like you’re a model.” You try standing in my shoes (flats, that is), and let me know.

I have learned to accept my height over the years. When I hear people complain about being short, I know I am not alone in my insecurities about my stature. I also know there are girls taller than I am. Why can’t we all just spread the love? We are all beautiful in our own way and should embrace our differences. *Queue cheesy song about loving yourself*

As a wise prophet once said, “Baby, I was born this way”. Well not born 5’8’’… That would be painful.