Of Great Stature

While I was stretching my limbs in yoga class this morning, I noticed with dismay that I was the only member of the class that had their feet sticking off the edge of the mat. This morning, I woke with them poking out from underneath my comforter. Yesterday while I was browsing at a used clothing store in Boise, I was dismayed to find that all shirts that fit my torso were too long for my arms, and shirts long enough for my arms fit me like a mumu. This is a brief list of burdens that claim penalty upon my life for being tall.

I am, however, pretty lucky for a tall person. I live on the semi-convenient edge of the tall world. I live in the height suburbs on the north side of town.

At 6'4", my legs are just short enough that all major clothing manufaturers find it worth their time and money to make pants long enough for me. My size 13 feet are small enough that every brand of shoe extends me the honor of being the largest size they make. I can fit (though uncomoftably) in a regular row on an airline. I can drive a compact car manufactured in Asia.

What am I complaining about? Nothing, I guess.