Overexposed

This week, I put on a show for all the ladies at the local TJ Maxx. I was shopping for spring shirts when I was confronted with the terrible truth: The dressing room doors literally hit me at the bust. And, I was wearing flip-flops.

Sigh.

First thought: “I guess we’ll find out who brought their dollar bills.”

Second thought: “I’m hungry. Did I bring a snack?”

Third thought: “I hope no one puts this on the Internet.”

Then, I went to work. I strategically selected my dressing room away from the entrance. (We wouldn’t want a mob scene, right?) Made sure there were no cameras to entertain the elite TJ Maxx security team. Practiced my best bob-and-weave every time someone walked by. And, 20 shirts later, made a mental note that the TJ Maxx dressing room design team had to consist of the shortest people in the world.

Sigh. It’s going to take some time to recover from this traumatic experience.

Don't fall flat

At social events, the tall comments always come out. My favorite from a baby shower this weekend, "You're too tall. I don't want to stand next to you."

Sigh. I have so much work to do.

But the saddest comment? It was from a fellow glamazon.

"I never wear heels. I don't want to be any taller so I always wear flats."

Ugh. The dreaded flat. It's like nails on a chalkboard. That's like saying, "I'm looking for a shoe to make my calves look bigger."

Tall women around the globe have long debated the high heel. Do you wear them and risk looking taller in exchange for great legs? Or, do you pass on the flat to avoid adding inches?

Kat's take: Burn all the flats. (Unless you're a librarian.) Even those cute ballerina shoes that are in style. I mean, do you really think someone my height is going to be a ballerina? I didn't think so.

Where's the LUV?

Can you save the emergency exit row seats when flying SWA?

I vote yes. Our flight attendant voted no.

Our packed flight didn't bode well for my "B" boarding pass but fortunately, my travel partner was an "A." Translation: a strong shot at getting the coveted emergency exit row seat.

I boarded the plane, took a deep breath of recycled air and smiled. There she was, a vision of loveliness, sitting in the emergency exit row with two seats saved. Cue the bright lights and harp music. My long legs would be spared the circus moves of my youth.

But, there was tension in the air.

"You can't save emergency exit row seats," said an SWA flight attendant, providing a loud verbal spanking to my friend. "That's rude."

Rude? What?! Since when?

I fly SWA enough to be a frequent flyer. And, I've been greeted by more than one 4'10 gymnast in this row saving a seat for a friend. This is America. We save seats everywhere we go. We save spots in line, too.

I get that these seats are a premium. Some airlines even charge more for you to sit there. But, if you're going to make these seats un-savable (is that a word?), you have to do it on ALL flights...not at the whim of the flight staff.

The other woman

It happened again this weekend. Sigh. But this time the wound cut a little deeper because (insert dramatic theme music here) another woman said it. (Gasp!)

So, I'm lounging by the pool when one of my WOMAN neighbors made a comment about my size. I think it went something like, "Well, you're a bigger woman anyway..." In fact, I'm sure it went EXACTLY like that.

Why do I distinguish that she's a woman? Because in my experience, whether you're 6'2 like me or 5'2 like her, all chicks have image issues. I expect a man to use the "b" word (and then have me blog about him). I expect a woman to know that no lady ever wants to be thought of as big. (Unless she's Russian.)

I mean, would you ever say to one of your heavier friends, "Well, you're a fatter woman..." or "You're a balder man..." or "Your breath stinks and you look like a troll..."

NO! Because you read this blog and are educated on the importance of manners.

Tall chicks everywhere: My mission to educate the ill-informed continues.

A "Big" Woman Like You

It happens to every tall chick and today was my day. Three different men felt the need to comment on my size. The first two were at the gym -- fine, I just made happy chat ("Yes, I played basketball..."), put my headphones on and went back to "sweatin' to the oldies." The last "gentleman" actually followed me through the grocery store. At first, I thought I was imagining it. But, then, no, I realized he was actually shopping for me. When we finally did talk (hooray), he wooed me with lines like, "I've been looking for a BIG woman your size." My self-esteem just soared. Public Service Announcement: At no time is it ever okay to call a woman "big." Ever.

Does it sound like I'm whining? I'm not. Being 6'2 this happens a lot and I typically don't mind it. I really enjoy people and meeting new friends. Sometimes though, humanity lets me down with chucklehead comments like, "Do you play rugby?"

Tall chicks everywhere: I'm looking out for you.