Pardon My Limbs

I have long legs.

Sometimes, I feel like everywhere I try to sit I have to worry about folding my legs up somewhere out of the way. I need my leg room.

At the movie theater, I love to put my feet up on the chair in front of me. Don't judge; it's not like I'm scuffing my shoes all over it. My ankles just rest on the top, feet crossed. Oh, it's so comfortable to have my legs stretched out!

It's always tricky, though, strategically picking the perfect spot to sit so no one will sit in front of me and thwart my plans.

This brings me to last night. I went with some friends to see The Avengers and at first all was perfect. No one was in front of me and I found the perfect position to relax.

Then, things started deteriorating. The empty seat on the right side of me was taken over by some random guy with a beard who totally stole my arm rest. He just edged his way onto it and I decided it wasn't worth it to have our arms touching... no thank you!

So, bitter about that but still relieved my feet were up, I settled down and started watching the previews. Before a couple came and sat, that's right, directly in front of me. Bummer. I mean, there were other seats in the place, people! Not my fault you came rolling in late!

I started getting antsy. This was going to be a long movie, and this girl needed to put her giraffe legs somewhere! Luckily, my understanding friend sitting on the other side of me felt my pain, and she shifted so I could put my feet up diagonally.

I had to adjust a couple times throughout the film as my legs got sore, but all in all I was satisfied.

Oh, and the movie was good too.

Let Me Reach That For You

I'm tall.

If you've seen me, you know this.

Not abnormally tall, just...taller. Like, compared to most girls.

Most times I like it, sometimes I don't.

Here's one reason why I don't: monkey arms.

What are monkey arms, you may ask? Monkey arms are what I call my extremely long arms. They seem normal enough to me, until I start to try on winter coats.

What is it with winter coats and their short arms? I'll put on a coat, and I'm liking it, and I'll reach out my arm to brush hair out of my face or grab my phone and what in the world - whose freakishly long arm is now halfway out of the sleeve?

Really?! Really.

Most times I love my arms. For reaching purposes. But there's something about having sleeves that are too short that make me feel ridiculous. Come on, I really can't buy this coat because the sleeves are too short? What are my options, here?

(And then there's trying to cover my ankles with pants. Well, let's not get into that right now. I'll just say that highwaters really aren't my preference.)



Someone please tell me I'm not alone in this? I'm sure guys don't have a problem because they're allowed to be tall...

Stand Tall

I used to really hate being tall. Now, I realize some benefits through the years:

1. Able to reach things off the top shelf. For me, or for random short strangers at the store.
2. Assumed to be much older than I really was.
3. Long legs to walk fast and pass short people on the sidewalk.
4. Tall enough to see over people’s heads at the theater, church, or a claustrophobic store on Black Friday.
5. Tall enough to look most people in the eye. Or down at the tops of their heads.
6. Could go deeper in the pool while still able to touch the bottom. This eliminated the risk of losing my footing and being devoured by “pool sharks,” who lived in the dark corners.
7. Long arms to grab falling items before they hit the ground (similar to “ElastiGirl”).
8. People assumed I played basketball. So they thought I was an exceptional athlete who used my height to my advantage, instead of curling up my limbs in a comfy chair and reading “Little House on the Prairie.”
9. Able to spot Easter eggs quicker, whether they be nestled in a tree or up on a dusty shelf.
10. Could easily place the angel on the top of the Christmas tree instead of blindly waving it above my head and getting my eyes poked by needles.

Sure, there are disadvantages of being tall. But, having dwelled on them much of my 21 years, I choose to leave them behind. Because they can’t catch up with me and my fast-walk.