Tall 3The first time I met my 6-foot 5-inch husband, all I saw were endless legs in skinny jeans, eventually ending in cowboy boots. It didn’t help, having all that tequila; I had the spins whenever I looked up to find his face. I needed binoculars on our first date.

On the Wedding Day: Both parents held onto each arm so I could walk down the aisle, because I wore 9-inch 1970s vintage platform shoes. I couldn’t walk without falling, like Sandra Bullock in Miss Congeniality. He didn’t want to bend over 45 degrees to kiss the bride. It was a negotiated compromise: Remove the toothbrush and Copenhagen can sticking out of your tuxedo pocket, and I’ll wear the heels.

On High Cupboards: Can you please get that cup/bowl/plate down for me? What else do you hide up there? So that’s where the Oreos come from. I wondered how they magically appear when you watch TV.

On Walking: Slow down, I can’t keep jogging to keep up with your Jack-in-the-Beanstalk stride.TAll stride

On Showering: The shower head must always point down, not out. The water goes over my head, it’s a waste. Same as putting the toilet seat down, please adjust the shower head after each shower, so I don’t have to get a step ladder whenever I want to clean myself.

On Fashion: His shirt is my dress and/or nightgown. Takes forever to do his laundry, since only 2 shirts at a time fit in the washer.

On Shopping for Clothes: You don’t have Extra Large TALL sizes? Do you know how hard it is to find TALL sizes? Let me talk to the manager of Nordstrom/Eddie Bauer/Cabela’s/Men’s Tall Warehouse. I’m running out of stores here.

On Standing Around: Can you please lean your elbow on something else besides me? My back can’t take it anymore.Tall 1

On Arguing: Sit down, so this is a fair argument. Stop towering over me, telling me to grow up. I can’t, I’ve reached my max height of five feet.Tall 2

On Conversing: What did you say? You’re so far away up there, your words aren’t reaching my ears down here.

On Hugs: Let me find a staircase so I can look you in the eye when I hug you instead of your bellybutton.

On Flying: Please get your knees out of my lap and your size 20 feet out of my foot space. By the way, can you put this in the overhead bin for me? Thank you.

On Jokes: What’s the weather like up there? He feigns a spit wad: It’s raining.

On Boating: What do you mean I have to work two extra years before I retire, just to pay for a higher roof on the boat? What’s wrong with bending over to drive it?

On Fishing: This fishing rod is too long and heavy, it’s pulling me overboard. If I catch a fish, I’ll fall in and the salmon sharks will get me.

On Skiing: We have to buy a roof rack because your flag-pole skiis won’t fit inside the car? What a pain.

On Buying Furniture: I’m not Edith Ann.Tall Edith Ann

On Buying a Vehicle: So you don’t fit in a Toyota/Mini-Cooper/Anything smaller than a semi? I have to add time whenever I drive anywhere, to adjust the seat/gas pedals/side mirrors/rearview mirrors/steering wheel. I don’t want to remodel the garage so we can fit a semi in it.

On Family Photos: I’m only photographed from the waist up. It’s a shame, because my legs are my skinniest, best feature. When I take group selfies, the top of my head is the only thing in the photo. Would one of you long-armed-aliens-from-the-Close-Encounters-spaceship please take this selfie?

Tall Alien

On Pet Ownership: You need to look down at the floor once in a while. We own dogs, remember?

On Low-Hanging Things: I’m sorry you have ceiling-fan anxiety; let’s get you some therapy.

On Sleeping: The dogs lick your feet because they stick out of the covers. Ouch! Please get your knees out of my back.

On Renting Convertibles in Warm Places: Bugs are splatted on your forehead. Squinch down in the seat so your head is below the windshield. Tall Convertible

On Holding Anything: What’s so funny/important/interesting, let me see, stop holding it above your head. I feel like a circus dog, jumping up and down to reach it.

On Having Children: Sit down so I can look you in the eye to discipline you, instead of gazing up at you like I’m a Hobbit and you’re an Orc.

On Anticipation of Having Grandchildren: Can I see the baby? Whenever you hold her, I forget what she looks like.

© Lois Paige Simenson and The Alaska Philosophaster, 2015, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to The Alaska Philosophaster with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.                      LIPSLips






Written by Lois Paige Simenson

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