No one weeps for tall people. I get it. You’ll never see tear-jerker television commercials scored with Sarah McLachlan music, lamenting the plight of tall people — our long-endured suffering due to possessing genetically larger frames than average humans. No one sees a tall person and chokes up at the sad spectacle: I bet she has trouble buying clothes, or I bet he has brain damage from hitting his head a lot. Nah. None of that happens. Nor should it. At the very worst, we get the usual, “Wow, you’re tall!”
Most of the time, I’m happy to be 6’4″. Friends and strangers alike tend to regard me as a natural leader, irrespective of whether I want (or deserve) to be. I seldom have to worry about not being able to see a movie screen or a concert stage. I’m blessed to be able to metabolize more carbs and calories before I start to see fat accumulation. Even though I’m terrible at basketball and other sports, people tend to assume I’m athletically gifted. And many of our most popular presidents were talls — hell, Donald Trump is rumored to wear lifts in his shoes and reportedly falsifies his height on his medical records in order to appear taller and therefore more dominant and authoritative.
