A HOPEFUL HEART â—½ YOU
Standing Tall
by Christina Oberon
Being a tall woman can feel like growing up in a funhouse mirror, where everyone around you is normal-sized, but you’re stretched out like a lanky giraffe in ballet flats. Ha! I’ve heard the phrase "It must be so great to be tall!" more times than I can count, and sure, in adulthood, it does have its perks - reaching the top shelf without asking for help, commanding attention in a room. But as a gangly teenage girl towering over her classmates? That’s a different story.
In the summer of 8th grade; I grew three inches, then added another inch at 21. Growing up tall often meant I didn’t fit in. I didn’t fit in with my shorter, petite friends who looked so cute and compact. I was taller than my parents and six sisters, often feeling like a lumbering Amazon, forever hunched over in a misguided attempt to blend in or shrink myself. Spoiler: it didn’t work. When you’re taller than everyone in the room, there’s no hiding it.
Class photos were torture. In alphabetical order, my maiden last name ("A") often put me front and center. But in social settings, the tall ones were always directed to the back; something that hasn’t changed in adulthood.
Finding clothes was another struggle. Jeans were always too short; sleeves stopped awkwardly at my wrists, and let’s not even talk about the quest for appealing flat shoes.
Then there were the nicknames, "Olive Oil," and my personal favorite, "Jolly Green Giant." It felt like my height was a neon sign announcing that I was different, as if my body had decided to grow first and let the rest of me catch up later. I often felt out of place, like I hadn’t earned my height yet, and I was constantly apologizing for it.
Dating only added to the insecurity. I was convinced my height made me less feminine and less desirable. I longed to be shorter for years. As teenagers, and even as women, we overthink so much. But I’ve since realized we often measure beauty against a narrow standard based on our environment. Growing up in Hawaii, this was certainly true for me.
The thing about being tall is, you can’t shrink, no matter how much you wish for it. So, eventually, you start to own it. As I got older, I stopped slouching and started standing tall, literally. I stopped seeing my height as something that set me apart in a bad way and instead began seeing my height as a source of confidence. Yes, I could still walk into a room and immediately be noticed, but instead of feeling like a giraffe in a flock of flamingos, I started to feel like I had an edge. Being tall became less about being awkward and more about owning the space I took up.
And hey, trees are tall too, and no one ever tells them they need to shrink. They stand proudly, stretching toward the sky, grounded and steady, serving a purpose. I realized maybe being tall isn’t about towering over others but about growing in a way that helps you reach your potential.
Of course, there are still challenges. Airplane seats can be less comfy, and I’m not entirely sure I’ve ever met a pair of pants long enough. But now, when someone says, “Wow, you’re so tall!” I smile and say, “Thanks! I like to think I’m just closer to the stars.” It’s a journey, growing into your height, both literally and emotionally. But there’s something empowering about standing tall above the insecurities you once had and fully embracing every inch of how God made you.