No, I don't play basketball, but rarely does a day go by that somebody doesn't ask me if I do. When I'm feeling cranky, I answer, "Yeah, for the Philadelphia 76ers."
When you're a woman as tall as I am - 6-foot-2 - it means putting up with all kinds of foolishness, including people assuming you're a man in drag or making you the butt of stupid jokes. "The weather up here is the same as the weather down there, thank you very much." Even church isn't a safe haven. I was heading to communion recently when an elderly usher whispered, "I think you're still growing."
Welcome to my world.
We may have a tall first lady, and supermodels are our aspirational norm, but a woman over 6 feet tall still shocks people. After all, conventional wisdom is that women are the smaller, weaker sex. But in my stocking feet, I stand nearly a foot taller than the average American woman and 4 inches taller than the average adult man. And everywhere I go, people never let me forget it.
Passersby, particularly men and children, crane their necks before looking down to see if I'm wearing high heels or maybe standing on a stepladder. As if. They say, "Wow, you're tall." "Thanks for telling me," I say back, with varying levels of sarcasm. "Are you a model?" I like when people ask me that - even though I'm nowhere near the age limit of America's Next Top Model contestants. Often, vertically challenged males try to take me on, saying, "You're taller than you say, because I'm 6 feet, so you must be 6-foot-5." It's hard to resist the urge to pat them on top of their heads.
As a kid, I hated standing out, especially in elementary school when I towered over my teachers. I resented being relegated to the rear of class lines or class pictures because I was taller than my classmates. Kids were cruel. I got called Big Foot and Stretch Armstrong so often, it's a wonder I didn't develop a complex.
By the time I got to college, I started realizing that being long-legged comes in handy. Tall people are never ignored. And not only were plenty of male students my height or taller, but I did some modeling, something most girls only dream of. But, again, people can be mean to anyone different. I remember once being friendly with a fellow undergrad who told me we couldn't be hang-out buddies, because I was too tall.
I'm fortunate to have had a slew of mentors along the way who taught me not to slouch and to embrace being tall. For the record, my basketball-coaching father stood a strapping 6-foot-6 and my mom, who was Halle Berry gorgeous and not the least bit self-conscious about her height, was 5-foot-10.
As a working journalist, being of above-average height is a mixed bag; I can see over other reporters' heads at news conferences, but it makes it harder to sneak in places.
Here's an interesting tidbit about taller women's advantage over their shorter sisters: A study published in 2004 found that for every extra inch, a tall person earns on average an additional $789 annually. People also say the taller of two presidential candidates generally wins - President Obama (6-foot-1) over Sen. John McCain (5-foot-9).
Another plus is that the well-proportioned among us can wear practically anything - provided we can find pants long enough to reach our ankles. But that's a challenge especially because the nation's only chain geared to tall women, Tall Girl, has closed. No trip to New York City was ever complete until I made a pilgrimage there.
Being tall isn't cheap. I've spent more time in first class than I deserve just to avoid flying with my knees jammed into the seat in front of me. When I fly coach, it's bulkhead or bust. If a group of short people beat me to the roomy row right behind first class, I'm the grumpy passenger glaring at them, because some things just aren't fair.
There's no such thing as one size fits all.