(Image via Undebunking Bigfoot)

I’m sure that just by looking at the title of this blog post, you all know what rant journey I am about to embark on. I’ve written about my long legs, I’ve written about my long arms, so it just makes sense that I write now, about my big ole feet. Quite literally, I am bigfoot.

I remember when I was 9 years old, constantly borrowing my mom’s shoes that fit me perfectly. She wears a size 8.5, the average shoe size for women in the United States. You may be thinking, “so what, that’s the average?”, but what 9 years old girl should be the average size of a fully grown woman? It would’ve been fine if my feet had stayed that size forever, but they didn’t, not even close.

I honestly hate when people ask me my shoe size because for some reason I’m in the phase of getting over some internal shame dealing with my height and everything that comes along with it; but, I currently wear a size 12 shoe in women. At first thought, a 12 is a massive shoe size, but when taking my height into consideration, my feet are one of the only things that are proportional concerning my height. Usually, when I tell people this, their automatic response is to look at my feet, and then say “well they aren’t that big compared to your size”. Honestly, this does alleviate a bit of self-consciousness concerning my feet, because at times I am convinced that I look like this:

(Image via Imgflip)

However, a little self-consciousness never hurt anyone, so what’s the problem? The real problem that I have with my feet is the fact that I can NEVER find shoes that I like in my size. Nearly all of my friends can go to American Eagle or Charlotte Russe and find a cute pair of shoes, but I lost that opportunity when I passed a size 10 at 12 years old. Unfortunately, in-store is even worse than online. I probably own 1 pair of shoes that I have been able to physically walk into a store, try on, and purchase. The majority of my shoes end up from Nordstrom Rack or some other online site, and oftentimes my shoes are in men’s sizes. This is because I am a size 10 in men, which is their average, thus my men’s sneakers and converse are available in abundance. Clearly, however, I am out of luck when it comes to heels, cute sandals, or anything other than my crocs. I LOVE CROCS and they come in bigger sizes than a 12!

Long story short, big feet and lack of shoe accessibility are just a few more struggles associated with being a tall girl.

Thanks for reading!

Madison

We’ve all driven past a Ford, Chevrolet, or Volvo car dealership at least once in our lives, and laughed at those massive blowup things that spazz in whatever direction the air pushes them in. Well, turns out they have a name – air dancers – and turns out a lot of people think I look just like one.

(Image via Giphy)

Air dancer or Madison? (Image via Karyn Porter)

“Why”, you ask? The answer is simple. I’m sure you all remember one of my earlier posts, where I wrote elaborately about my extremely long legs. Luckily, I didn’t just get blessed with one pair of long limbs, I got blessed with two! #LongLiveLongLimbs! My legs may be long, but my arms are most definitely more impressive.

I was in middle school when I first realized that my arms were NOT the right size for my body. A couple of my friends and I were mesmerized by the fact that our feet were the same length as our forearms and our arms were the same height as us… until I realized that my arms were about 8 inches taller than me. Suddenly, it all clicked. I realized that the reason that I got dress coded on twin day when I wore the same exact jean skirt as my best friend, was because the “fingertip length” rule for me was at my knees, whereas for her it was midthigh.

After this realization, I began to notice my excessively long arms in every picture I took and every time I looked in the mirror. It became one of my biggest insecurities throughout middle school,  but I figured I would grow out of it eventually. Unfortunately, I didn’t grow out of it, and to this day my wingspan is still 6’6, 5 inches taller than me, and “fingertip length” is still at my knees.

However, during my sophomore year in high school when I began playing volleyball, I grew increasingly thankful for my lanky arms. It didn’t matter that I couldn’t jump to save my life, I just had to stand there and put my arms up and I ended up being successful most of the time. Here are some pictures of the blessings of long arms:

A shot of me blocking in the local newspaper (Image via Fredericksburg Free Lance Star)

A shot of me hitting at National Qualifiers in Atlanta, Georgia (Image via Karyn Porter)

Now, I am a college freshman, and I have grown to love and accept my long limbs. But, like my jeans, it is difficult to find clothing to properly fit my abnormally long friends. Generally, I have to invest in extra large sweaters or long sleeved shirts, which usually result in the shirt being too big in the body, but the perfect length for my arms. As evident in some of the above pictures, the jerseys that fit my body, end up being arm highwaters (is that a thing?). I think it’s a given at this point that life isn’t fair, especially for us taller people, and we have to learn at one point or another that sometimes we have to sacrifice size for length.

Thanks for reading! #LongLiveLongLimbs

Madison

Many of you all, like me, one day hope to marry the love of your life and live happily ever after. However, at the rate I’m going (growing?), I’m honestly not sure how successful I’ll be. I’m unsure about a lot of things, but the one thing I AM sure of is that I will not marry someone shorter than me (knock on wood). No offense to my shorter male friends out there, I respect everyone, but I absolutely refuse to be like Eniko Parrish and Kevin Hart.

(Image via People)

We’re a couple posts in, so I’m sure most of you are aware that I am well above average height for a female, and surprise, I’m above average height for a male, as well. I am literally 4 entire inches above the average height of a male, meaning that the majority of the male population of the United States of America is shorter than me. That being said,  most of the guys that I refer to as short probably aren’t actually short, but in my book, tall is at least 6’4. However, studies show that less than 2% of American males are above 6’4. What a selection! Just kidding.

My friend Andres and I, showing a significant height difference (Image via Joselyn Jones)

Throughout high school, I had a good amount of male friends that were taller than me, but my shorter male friends obviously exceeded this number. Out of the 1200 people at my high school, there were probably 6 males that were taller than me. That’s literally 0.5%. Yikes. Here in college, I’m pretty sure that I have yet to have a real conversation with a male that is taller than me. I feel like I’m ruining my family legacy as the minutes’ pass. My mom, who stands at a strong 5’4, managed to meet my dad, who stands at 6’8, during her freshman year here at Penn State…HOW?!!! Sometimes at night, I wonder how easy life must be when you’re not always the tallest person at a function, constantly drawing attention and pretending not to notice people staring at you, and you can see in their eyes how badly they want to ask you if you play basketball. Just kidding. Kind of. Not really.

But in all seriousness, I came to college to earn a degree, not to scope out potential husbands. Don’t get me wrong, it would be nice, but definitely not a priority right now. Maybe if I wish hard enough, I’ll. find a nice 6’4+ potential husband in medical school but until then, I think chemistry needs as much love and attention from me as possible. Bigger yikes.

Anyways, until the hopeful day that I find my future husband, I’ll probably continue to have nightmares of becoming the next Eniko Parrish.

Until next week!

Madison

Every day, we sit in our beds, we sit in our classes, we sit at our desks, and we sit at our tables. Sitting serves as a type of intermission between our incessant running back and forth between our classes, club meetings, and other daily activities. It provides our body with an overwhelming sense of relaxation, where literally all you have to do, is sit. But what happens when this daily occurrence becomes more of a daily hassle? I would know.  

As we’ve talked about before, my legs are very long, like comparable to a giraffe’s neck long. For this reason, sitting sometimes seems more like a task than like a relaxer. Whether I’m sitting at my desk, sitting at a table, sitting in the Forum, or sitting in a car, my legs simply don’t allow for the level of comfort that many of my peers’ experience.  

You all know the typical Penn State dorm desks, the big, ugly, wooden ones that you slide your chair under. Well for me, the only time I slide my chair under is when I’m not in it. This is simply because if I try to slide under my desk while sitting in the chair my feet hit the wall way before I’m under and my knees hit the top of the desk. 

Like this: 

(Image via Madison Burnard)

However, sitting at a desk isn’t my only downfall, sitting at a table is too. Anyone who has ever sat across from me at a table knows exactly what I mean: ankle abuse. It’s not intentional, and anyone that knows me knows that I’m probably the least violent person on the face of the planet, but it happens. My legs are so long that it’s pretty much guaranteed that I will accidentally kick whoever is across from me more than once. I feel especially bad for my mom, who endures ankle abuse from both my dad and I. Whenever we’re at a restaurant, it’s inevitable that she gets kicked. My dad is 6’8 and I am 6’1, so we obviously can’t sit across from each other, thus one of us is always across from her. I’m sure once my younger brother, who is 11 and 5’3, grows, we will probably cancel family dinner outings altogether, for my mom’s ankles’ sake.  

Even better than ankle abuse, is spinal abuse. For me, this usually occurs in the Forum, in cars, and even on the bus rides home.  Simply put, my legs are so long that they literally impale the spines of whoever is unfortunate enough to have to sit in front of me. In the Forum, the rows are so close together that my knees literally push into the back of the chair in front of me. This usually leaves the person in front of me sitting STRAIGHT up or leaning forward and shooting me dirty looks throughout class. Sorry dude. Additionally, in cars and buses, my knees are pretty much always pressing into the seat in front of me, even if I’m sitting behind my mom who’s 5’4. Long car/bus rides are AWFUL. I recently took a Greyhound bus home, and I literally couldn’t even move because I was jammed between the window, another person, and the seat in front of me. To make matters worse, the knee cramps associated with this unfortunate occurrence was KILLER and I couldn’t extend my legs for THREE HOURS.  

(Image via Penn State T&F Alumni)

Long story short, sitting is just another thing you shouldn’t take for granted if you’re not 6 feet tall. Quite frankly, I feel bad for anyone taller than me, because believe me, the struggle is real.  

Thanks for reading and tune in next week for more of the fantastic perks of being a giant!

Madison