Accepting Height
Tall.
A tall female.
Someone who is supposed to be graceful and
The pinnacle of beauty but
I’m not thin.
Rolls pour over my jeans and
My nose is not sharp, thin and dainty.
My cheekbones are not high and prominent.
Acne creates mountains then deep ravines on my face,
Swapping between ice pick pits and drumlins
Like the endless game of hills and holes I played in
Elementary School gym class.
Tall.
A tall female.
A curse brought by genetics and
Overactive thyroids
Spurred on by a drunk man outside of 7/11 asking
What basketball team I play for
And a mom who
Defends her short daughter's volleyball ability
Even though I never mentioned I thought she couldn't.
It's something I wish I could laugh at because
Contrary to what they believe
I suck at sports.
Tall.
A tall female.
The one part of your appearance you can’t change.
My height will never be bleached a different color or
Minimized to fit tightly drawn lines.
It could never be fixed with botox or silicon implants.
Tall.
A tall female.
The tallest one in the grade. The tallest one in the school
Sometimes I feel like the tallest one in the world.
Only my neck is visible
In mirrors in school bathrooms.
Sometime I wish I could see
But then I think maybe it’s better that way because
I don’t have to see other
Parts of my appearance.
Tall.
A tall female.
A fact I used to hate.
A fact until this year I tried my best to ignore.
A fact I used to try minimizing by always wearing flats
Even in winter, through snow and
By slouching, creating a hunchback
Notre Dame would be proud of
To lost an inch or two.
Tall.
A tall female.
An undeniable part of my appearance I didn’t want.
Something that bound me in chains of diffidence until I realized that
I’m tall.
And it’s not a bad thing.
It’s not something I can change
And that’s ok.
Sure, it’s sometimes lingers in my mind
In the section that holds
The lyrics of one hit wonders I wish didn’t exist
But accept that they do
And that like my height
They are a fact I can’t change.