Bitter Reasons to be tall

I guess today is a holiday, though how would I know it?  I’m at work, doing work (well, not right now) and I see no evidence of it being a holiday at all other than there are some oversized spiders hanging from the ceiling and spider webs everywhere. There is also some weirdo that doesn’t have a head riding around on his horse annoying me.  When I asked him to get off his high horse and measure our heights back to back, he was about a head shorter than me.  Sure he was a little bitter about having no head and all, but nowhere near the bitterness I have in being tall.

Accidental Greatness.  Try as I might, because of my height, I can’t control being good at sports. I try to avoid being near basketball courts by laying on my couch doing nothing, because whenever I walk on a court, I am accidently blocking shots, doing 360 windmill dunks, or doing crossovers that would make Lebron look stupid.  When I walk out on a football field, I accidently swat passes out of the way, on soccer fields I keep mistakenly scoring goals.  It upsets some people, particularly people that actually do these things for a living.  They practice for hours on end, doing insane things like running, lifting weights and shooting.  You can’t imagine the burden I carry of automagically being good at sports without trying. It’s like people expect you to do it for a living.  But it seems like a lot of work.

Growing up. I had to grow up way more than most.  While some people were lucky enough to grow up slowly and gradually and then stop at a nice even height, I had to keep growing.  It caused sore bones, lack of sleep, and unrealistic expectations that I could grab things on really high shelves.  Imagine the bitterness I felt when someone short kept asking me, “Can you get this for me?” and “Can you get that for me?”  or “Can you get that other thing for me?”.  “Can you climb on this dangerous ladder and risk your life putting this thing up there for me?” or “Can you get down from the Empire State Building and stop swatting at the nice airplanes trying to kill you?”.  Some people just have no idea how much it hurts being so tall.

Nicknames.    There are all kinds of cruel, bitter nicknames for us.  How about “Hey really tall guy up there!” or “What’s up tallie?” or “What’s the weather like up there, head in the clouds boy?” or “Hey do you want some Strawberry Tallcake?” or “Hey Bitter Green Giant, how is your corn and green beans!” or “What’s up guy that can screw in lightbulbs slightly easier than we can guy?” You have no idea how many days I came home from school or from work yesterday, and plopped on the couch that wasn’t quite long enough, and had to watch a 60″ inch TV that wasn’t quite as tall as me, and easily forgot all those insults.  But it was a burden for those short few seconds.  Don’t they know that I prefer to be heightily enhanced, not “tall”.  Whatever, I’m not bitter(yes I am).

Doorways.  Doorways, showerheads, chandeliers, trees and Spiderwebs were all things invented by someone who wanted to torture tall people.  I imagine it was someone who was really smart and saavy and good with making things that on the surface seemed useful, but really subtly hated tall people because of their ability to read the weather about a millisecond faster than they could.  I would like to come face to face with this person someday, so I could tell him or her how bitter I am about them, but I fear that I would have to sit down to get face to face with that person.  No matter, I will get my revenge someday, by not getting something on the top shelf for them or booing them when they come up just short…of making the Hall of Inventions.

I know people have a lot of things to do today, so I will make this short…Have a bitter day of overeating, being hot and stuffy in your costume and having to work despite this being a holiday.  I know I will be bitter.

Arrrggghhhhhh Boooo

Bitter Tallie Ben

 

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