Heels for My Height: Is that even right?

I will never forget the day when I was at the SM department store’s shoe section for ladies. While

my heartbeat and feet rushed in sync, my eyes scanned the shelves at a staggering rate of about 10 pairs of

shoes per second. As I walked through the aisles from here to there, my sight was immediately captivated

by the glistening silver glimmer of those pageant-type shoes, followed by the sophisticated aura of

stilettos. Regardless of the fact that these beautiful pairs await to be filled in with somebody’s feet and

torture it with painful blisters, I cannot wait to have my feet adorned with glimmer, sophistication, and

perhaps a couple of band-aids, should the pain arise. Ever since I have considered myself as adalaga who

likes to dress up, I would be more than willing to endure all the pain in exchange for being fashionable

because I have this deep love for heels—but of a forbidden kind.

I am 5 feet and 10 inches tall, and I have always been the tallest among my peers from childhood

to high school. Since I live in the province, being a girl with this height was far from what is considered as

ordinary. Thus, I am living a life filled with judgment and instances of exclusion. While others follow New

Year traditions and jump in hopes of getting taller every year, I am greeted with, “‘Wag ka na tatalon ha,

para ‘di ka na tumangkad.” Also, in the midst of the reality wherein most children get buffet price

discounts for not exceeding the 5 feet mark, my 8-year-old self would easily pass as a grown up. Because

of that, my parents were obligated to pay for my fee in full. Lastly, while other ladies get to wear heels

whenever they please, I get hastily questioned for wearing them and be forbidden to add a few more

inches to my towering height. Hence, as a tall girl myself, I greatly resonate with Jodi Kreyman from the

Tall Girl movie as she said, “When you're a tall girl, it's the only thing people see.”

However, on that wondrous day I was welcomed to the magical world of SM (SM Supermalls), the said

forbiddance on heels ceased to exist. I was an incoming Grade 11 student at De La Salle Lipa back then,

and in compliance with the school’s senior high school policy, I had to wear black leather school shoes

with heels. Upon reaching the section of school shoes, I tirelessly tried on several pairs with different

styles and varying heel measurements. Personally, shopping for shoes always meant shopping for a

minimum of one hour because it’s quite difficult for me to meet all the criteria I have in mind: a simple,
plain, and durable size 10 black leather shoe with a ribbon design on the toe area and with heels which are

not too high and not too thin, making the whole shoe comfortable to wear for hours. Thankfully, SM

really has got it all for you.

Wearing a smile on my face and heels on my feet, I entered my Grade 11 classroom a few weeks

after my most valuable purchase. Similar to the times when I entered a classroom on the very first day, I

felt the familiar impending sense of intimidation. As I walked in, I saw strangers approaching each other

and having a small chat of their own. While they were gradually building friend groups based on probably

interests or places of residence, I was approached by no one. Instead, I went to the only person I knew:

my cousin.

In my head, I believe that it was the tall facade of mine which discouraged them from

approaching. Perhaps they weren’t used to seeing a feminine giant enter the classroom doors or were too

nervous to even stand next to one. Also, I knew that this intimidation would also be something that I

would experience. It was the actions and reactions of people which made me feel uncomfortable. For

instance, whether I am in a mall, church, or any public area, I would notice how people would glance at

me from the toe up, as if they were checking for any signs of heels. There were even people who were

rash to ask me if I was a repeater at school or where I was working at, as if my height would qualify me as

a twenty-year-old.

In spite of the judgements my height attracts from other people in places such as my Grade 11

classroom, I still try to make myself belong. After getting past the classroom doors and greeting my

cousin, I settled in and took a seat at the place where anyone would expect a tall person to be: at the back

of the classroom.

As a tall girl, I have gone through several undesired adjustments in my life. Even if some

adjustments may be tiring or awkward on my part, I have to adjust. I have to exert an effort to blend in so

that I won’t get left out just because of my height. So, aside from settling at the back of the room even if I
have poor eyesight, there were instances wherein I had to adjust and assume unexpected roles. I was in

junior high school when our class was practicing for our closing program (a themed dance variety show at

the end of the school year). In the midst of rehearsals, I heard my adviser speak to the choreographer

with a little chuckle as they glanced at me, “Saan ko siya pwede ilagay? ‘Di sila pantay tingnan pag

magkakasama eh. Ang tangkad niya masyado.” Luckily, we were doing a dance number for one of the

songs from the Wicked musical. Since Nessarose sits on a wheelchair, her character seemed to be the

perfect fit for me to blend in with my peers. Also, prior to this musical performance of mine, the other

time when I had to adjust for a role due to my height was during my grade school years. Back then, folk

dances were a thing in our school. Since there were only a few boys in our class and the dances were

meant to be done in pairs, I was the only baro’t saya-wearing dancer paired with another girl. In other

words, I was the only girl taking on the role of a boy.

In hindsight, having the male role in grade school actually served to be a prelude to what I would

eventually feel in high school. After being acquainted with my Grade 11 classmates a few weeks since our

first day of classes, majority of the boys have already asked me questions revolving around the same

topics: my height, if I ever drank liters of Cherifer when I was young, whether or not I play volleyball or

basketball, and if, in some magical way, I could donate some of my height to them.

In fact, back in junior high school, my guy friends have also done the same thing. In addition to

the height-related queries, they would even make use of my height in a very practical manner—for I, the

tall girl classmate, was their walking height chart. Some of them would stand next to me and have a

first-hand calculation of our height differences. When they fail to make out the numbers, they would just

ask the other friend, “Pre, hanggang saan ako?” It’s a bit weird, you know, having your body parts as a

measuring scale: “Pre, hanggang tenga ka na.” Some would even say with great pride, “Uy, hanggang

balikat ka lang dati ah, nasa kilay ka na ngayon!”

Everytime guys jokingly utter remarks on my height and I laugh along with them, I can’t help but

feel not feminine enough. I always wondered that if girls are ideally pictured to be petite, pretty, and
poised, would I ever pass off as one? When I’m around, would guys ever be a gentleman and treat me like

their female friends, or would they just see me as an ideal height model and height chart?

Petite, pretty, poised—these are adjectives that may never be used to describe the feminine giant

that I am. Well, looking on the bright side, one-word descriptions during getting-to-know sessions for

most of my Grade 11 classes have always been way too easy for me. Everyone's in a bit of a fuss, hurriedly

asking, "Huy, bigyan mo nga ako ng adjective," or, "Ano pa kaya ang pwede? Taken na yun eh. 'Bat naman

kasi may consequence ‘pag naulit." And then there's me, relaxing amidst the chaotic exchanges of

suggestions and rejections:

"Hi, I'm tall.”

Yes, tall is all I’ve ever been, and tall is all I ever will be. As my fellow tall girl Jodi Kreyman said

in her final speech: “We've all got something about ourselves we wish we could change. But it's

completely out of our control. The only thing that we can control is how we deal with it. And the way I

see it, we have two choices. We can lay low, or we can stand tall.”

It may be difficult to live through the intimidation, adjustments, and the feeling of not being seen

nor treated as a girl because a tall girl is only what most people see. However, I am able to accept all 70

inches of me. I am able to stand tall because of my guy friends who saw me as a potential varsity player

and encouraged me to try out for our high school volleyball team. I am able to stand tall because of my

peers or co-performers who saw me as a fun, albeit self-proclaimed, dancer and helped make my

unexpected role adjustments bearable and surprisingly memorable. I am able to stand tall because of those

people who saw me as a friend as they looked past my stature and welcomed me into class with a warm

bright smile.

Thus, the moment I bought and wore my black leather school shoes with heels, I surely never

walked alone. (1678 words)