I hate myself.
Wait, let me clarify that. I hate things about myself. Mostly the large things, like my thighs and my waistline.
I hate that stores don’t stock shoes in size 11, how I can’t find a decent sports bra, or that shopping for eyeglasses involves me telling the sales clerk that she needs to show me the frames for pumpkin-headed people.
I hate not being able to cross my legs under a table, having no room in airplanes, or that the seat in my car doesn’t go back far enough for my liking. Also, long-sleeved shirts that look more like 3/4 length.
And, for crying out loud, my earlobes.
Of course this is just the way I was made and I wouldn’t be me without resembling a giant – I’d certainly have a lot less fodder for this blog, that’s for sure. Just once, though, I’d like to wear heels without towering over everyone.
Sure there are benefits; like being able to reach the tall shelf without a stool and never having to worry about someone blocking your view. That’s about it. Being a big girl ain’t easy.
Palming a basketball, however? Piece of cake.