Hi guys! It's my first time here and I seriously need help with my essay. I thought a lot and came across this topic but I'm having second thoughts. I'm open to suggestions or edits. Thanks.
I slowly opened my eyes as I saw my friends surrounding me. I heard people laughing in the distance and a sound ringing in my ears. Suddenly, I felt a sharp pain in my forehead. I saw my friends lifting their fingers and heard them asking how many. I was running when I hit my head on a doorframe.
Walking around with a six feet three inch body is not easy.
For as long as I can remember, I've been the tallest kid around. In a country where the average height of men is five feet and four inches, being more than six feet tall is quite exceptional. People come up to me and ask for my height before my name. I've grown tired of people assuming that I play basketball, and I try my hardest to smile when they ask me if I can see Mount Everest from where I stand. I explain to everyone that the weather up here is the same as down there, and my brain goes blank when they ask me what I ate to grow so tall. I have around thirteen unique nicknames given to me, among which Giraffe, Eiffel Tower, and Bamboo are some of the most commonly used ones. I come across these tall person stereotypes almost every single day, and I've been exposed to them for a long time now.
Growing up, I detested these stereotypes. I was tired of hearing the same jokes over and over again. I wanted to be a normal kid with a normal height, not a kid whose legs could not fit on the classroom bench. I wish people would compliment my height rather than tell me to "stop growing." Furthermore, the most difficult part of growing up was failing to live up to the tall guy expectations.
The issues I had due to my height escalated far beyond the problems of finding clothes and shoes. My height made me apprehensive about walking around people. I did not like going out because people stared at me in public. Being forced onto the basketball team made me feel good for nothing when I could not utilize my height. My height impacted me mentally more than it ever had physically.
The list of inconveniences that came with being tall piled up quickly, but as I matured, these inconveniences became less and less significant.
Sometimes people ask me, "Your height must be bothersome, right?"
"No, I love it," I answer them.
Although it caused me a lot of issues growing up, as I've matured, I've come to appreciate the perks of my stature. It pushed me back in some aspects, but it boosted me forward in others. The reactions of people have also grown on me over time. I now find it funny when people stand next to me and stare in awe. I don't blame them for being surprised when they see the top of their heads barely reaching my shoulders. The questions that annoyed me in the past are now part of my daily routine. The jokes are still boring, but they are inconsequential. Accepting my height taught me to accept every one of my insecurities.
I stand out-in a good way. I have learned to embrace my so-called flaws. Along with my height, I've also learned to accept my centimeter-wide tooth gap and my Pinocchio-sized nose. I've come to understand that not everyone has the same physical structure, so there is no such thing as a "normal-sized person." I am not special just due to my height, but in more ways than that. I am a cluster of incredible traits stuffed into a tall package.
A Tall Package
I slowly opened my eyes as I saw my friends surrounding me. I heard people laughing in the distance and a sound ringing in my ears. Suddenly, I felt a sharp pain in my forehead. I saw my friends lifting their fingers and heard them asking how many. I was running when I hit my head on a doorframe.
Walking around with a six feet three inch body is not easy.
For as long as I can remember, I've been the tallest kid around. In a country where the average height of men is five feet and four inches, being more than six feet tall is quite exceptional. People come up to me and ask for my height before my name. I've grown tired of people assuming that I play basketball, and I try my hardest to smile when they ask me if I can see Mount Everest from where I stand. I explain to everyone that the weather up here is the same as down there, and my brain goes blank when they ask me what I ate to grow so tall. I have around thirteen unique nicknames given to me, among which Giraffe, Eiffel Tower, and Bamboo are some of the most commonly used ones. I come across these tall person stereotypes almost every single day, and I've been exposed to them for a long time now.
Growing up, I detested these stereotypes. I was tired of hearing the same jokes over and over again. I wanted to be a normal kid with a normal height, not a kid whose legs could not fit on the classroom bench. I wish people would compliment my height rather than tell me to "stop growing." Furthermore, the most difficult part of growing up was failing to live up to the tall guy expectations.
The issues I had due to my height escalated far beyond the problems of finding clothes and shoes. My height made me apprehensive about walking around people. I did not like going out because people stared at me in public. Being forced onto the basketball team made me feel good for nothing when I could not utilize my height. My height impacted me mentally more than it ever had physically.
The list of inconveniences that came with being tall piled up quickly, but as I matured, these inconveniences became less and less significant.
Sometimes people ask me, "Your height must be bothersome, right?"
"No, I love it," I answer them.
Although it caused me a lot of issues growing up, as I've matured, I've come to appreciate the perks of my stature. It pushed me back in some aspects, but it boosted me forward in others. The reactions of people have also grown on me over time. I now find it funny when people stand next to me and stare in awe. I don't blame them for being surprised when they see the top of their heads barely reaching my shoulders. The questions that annoyed me in the past are now part of my daily routine. The jokes are still boring, but they are inconsequential. Accepting my height taught me to accept every one of my insecurities.
I stand out-in a good way. I have learned to embrace my so-called flaws. Along with my height, I've also learned to accept my centimeter-wide tooth gap and my Pinocchio-sized nose. I've come to understand that not everyone has the same physical structure, so there is no such thing as a "normal-sized person." I am not special just due to my height, but in more ways than that. I am a cluster of incredible traits stuffed into a tall package.