I have really found that being tall (along with many other things) is both a blessing and a curse.

The blessings include:

  • Being able to reach things on high shelves
  • Being able to see over a crowd of people waiting in line
  • Being able to carry excess weight without it being obvious.

The curses include:

  • Finding clothes (and cute shoes) that fit well can be a challenge
  • Finding taller men can likewise be a challenge
  • Being able to carry excess weight without it being obvious.

As you probably noticed the last bullet on both is the same.  There is a a definite perk to being able to “wear” extra weight well which I think probably goes without saying, however the downside to this is that I find others to not be as supportive as they might otherwise be.

For instance, when I mentioned to some friends that I was going to start Weight Watchers, the general reaction was something like this:  “What?!  Why?!  You look fine!”  To which my standard response was, “Thanks, but you haven’t seen me naked.”

I do not think that the solution to this is to carry a naked picture of myself around to whip out whenever someone gets on my case by saying that they don’t think I need to lose weight.  I might get arrested.  However I do find that I end up defending my choice more than not.  This, as you might imagine, can get annoying.

Of course I would probably find it equally frustrating if the response was more along the lines of, “Well, it’s about time.”  Yes, I think that would indeed be worse.

What’s even funnier is how, when I lose weight, everyone is always equally shocked that I could have possibly had that much to lose.  For instance, since I’m currently 18 pounds lighter, you wouldn’t believe how mouths drop open when I tell people that.  “18 pounds?!  Really?!  Are you sure?!  I didn’t even think you had that much to lose!”  Yep.  I did.  And I’m not done.  There’s still another 30-some pounds hanging on these bones that needs to take a permanent hike.

Regardless of all this - and what I really wanted to say here is that it’s not about what anyone else thinks…  Rather, it’s only what I think that matters.  After all, I’m the only one that HAS to see me naked every day.  I’m the one who has to stand in front of my closet full of clothes that fit me perfectly once upon a time, but now I couldn’t squeeze into without a good slathering of Crisco and a crowbar.  I’m the one who needs to feel comfortable in my own skin.

I’ve been there before and it was a nice place.  I want to go back.