Tall and Short

Tall & Short of Teenhood

By Casey Capachi

TIMES TEEN WRITER

6-footer embraces her height

JULIA ROBERTS once said, "I'm too tall to be a girl. I'm between a chick and a broad."

Just like Roberts, who I might add is only 5 feet 9 inches, I feel like a cross between fabulous and huge every day of my life.

Standing at 6 feet for the past two years of my life, I now embrace my height. But it wasn't always so.

At the start of fifth grade, I had to buy a uniform for the Catholic school I would attend. It was at the uniform outlet that I realized how my size affected my choices.

Clothes that fit me around the waist weren't long enough for my legs and clothes long enough for legs were too roomy elsewhere. My mother kept going back and forth from the racks to the dressing room with pants for me to try on. We ended up going to the neighboring outlet to find long enough pants. It was then that my body consciousness began.

High heels are the also unfortunate no-no for glamour pusses like myself. I mean, it's just scary when I wear heels. Period. But considering I have the whole point of high heels -- height -- I now relish the fact that I can wear flats to prom.

Besides fashion issues, my height has affected my posture. I believe all tall girls develop bad posture because they think it makes them look less suspicious of being a "tree." Trust me girls, craning your neck one centimeter down doesn't bring the boys to the yard.

When you are so tall, it feels like you're under a microscope, like everyone is sizing you up and trying to figure you out. I especially feel like I'm in a fishbowl when I visit my family. When I walk down the street, people will just stop and stare at me like I'm a creature they have never seen before. It's so weird it makes you want to shrink with self-consciousness.

But despite going against societal norms, I wouldn't want to be shorter if I could. I came to this realization while playing volleyball. I was always noticed at tryouts because I was tall, and up until other girls caught up to my height, I didn't have to work as hard as they did to get playing time.

There is also something so powerful and, hey, even beautiful about a tall woman, since the mythical Amazons to the current rendition of them: Victoria's Secret models. Maybe it's the never-ending legs or just the fact that you make heads turn, but height is power. I have the power to look down on people, literally, and even the power to choose colleges because they want tall girls to play their sport.

The only thing missing from this great height equation is a tall male ... oh well, can't have it all.

I realize that everyone has insecurities about her body. It's the only thing anyone can truly call their own. I have come to terms with the fact that I will always be too tall to wear adorable pumps, but that I will always stand above the crowd.

I do have one question though: When will it be my turn to be in the front of a group picture?

The Times' Life in Perspective board is made up of local high school journalists who write stories, opinion columns and reviews for TimeOut. Casey Capachi is a senior at Miramonte High School. She can be reached c/o lip@cctimes.com.

Petite size requires creativity

WALKING DOWN the sidewalk side-by-side with my best friend, Brendan, I am eclipsed by his shadow.

As he ambles along, I take two steps for every one of his, resulting in an odd sort of skip. Abruptly, he stops. "What?" I ask. "Oh, there you are," he says, feigning a sigh of relief. "You're so short, I almost lost you." He laughs as I try to smack him, barely able to reach the shoulder of his 6-foot frame.

Despite the predictable height (or lack thereof) jokes, being only 4 feet 113/4 inches has its perks: I never have to worry about towering over anyone when I'm wearing heels (in fact, they bring me to about average height), and clothes from the children's department are considerably less expensive. But the constant neck cramps from looking up at the less vertically challenged, the hazardous climb to reach the top cabinet, and the inability to find a pair of jeans not embroidered with pink sequins can get a little frustrating.

Luckily, I come from a long line of other -- as I like to say -- proportionally petite women. My mom and I share the constant struggle of stature. We are both envious of my younger sister, who seems to have the height of a runway model. At 5 foot 4, she looms above me, giving me a slight disadvantage every time we get in an argument (I find myself slightly intimidated). I'm just a little resentful when the waitress hands her the adult menu, while bestowing on me a packet of crayons.

Adults constantly inform me that I will be thankful when I'm older for my youthful features -- a compliment offset by the whispers I hear as I pass sophomores in the hallway, "Isn't she a freshman?"

I'd like to be able to convince myself that I have that mature, sophisticated air of an upperclassman, but lately I've just been avoiding the freshman hallway altogether.

Sitting in class, I swing my feet back and forth underneath my desk, the toes of my shoes brushing the ever-elusive floor beneath. My feet barely touch, but rarely does that ever present a problem: I have to sit on my heels in order to see above the student in front of me anyway.

As I leave class, my friend Ashley runs toward me. "Shorty!" she calls out, running up beside me. She's called me Shorty for so long, I'm beginning to doubt she knows my real name. As we walk to our next class, she playfully rests her arm on my head despite my best attempts to duck: I'm the perfect height to serve as her armrest.

Being short is more than just an issue of height. I've learned to look up to people I admire, quite literally. I've learned it's OK to ask for help when I need it, but also to figure out creative solutions for myself: When I learned to drive, I sat on a pillow or a phonebook. When buying pants, I look for capris. And when I'm with my little sister, I wear heels.

But the most important lesson I've learned is not to let other people look down on me (no pun intended): I have just as much to offer as anyone else. Well, unless you're trying to reach the top cabinet. For that, I'll go get a stool.