So my family and I decided last night to take a walk. All of us.....together. It was a production. First off K does not like to walk as much as he likes to ride his bike, which is totally fine with me except that he has to completely stop and pull off the road when cars are coming. It is mostly for my peace of mind, but it does slow down the process. And G, OMG G, he is the worlds slowest walker ever. He does not stop when a car comes, but K and I do, and we still walk farther and faster than he does. So anyway, we are off for our "family" walk last night and K and I are pulled over and G walks ahead of us, so I catch up to him and he says, "slow down you long legged Hilda!"
WHAT?!?! I look at him, and what is that supposed to mean.
"You have the longest damn legs and you walk too fast."
I grinned. I am almost 6 feet tall and I do have long legs. For years I was teased about my height, being taller than all the boys for years. But for what I think is the first time, being teased for my long legs didn't bother me at all. For the first time, I was proud of those long legs. They are strong, they carry me where I need to go and yes, they are long. Long enough that I have to buy all my pants in talls, long enough to stretch the entire length of the couch. And long enough to run fast when my child calls for me.
So is it my jeans that make me proud of my legs? More than likely it is my genes that make me proud. I come from a large family of super tall people. My mom's brothers as well as my Dad and his brothers all top out at over six feet. My bother is also somewhere around 6'3". And I am the tallest girl in the family and I love it.
Even through all the teasing growing up about being too tall, as was my basketball nickname, I am proud of it. I am proud of the fact that standing in a group of my relatives I obviously belong.