Narrative Essay On Being Tall

When I was born, I was the smallest baby in the NICU at the time. Being hooked up to every machine the hospital had and weighing 2.4 pounds with a length of 15 inches. My parents say I was their little “preemie queen”. I was slow to develop physically until about age 3, then suddenly I grew like a weed. My family will tell you it was a miracle from then on. Dad tells me all the time I was definitely a piece of work once I started growing. I didn’t know how to handle my body. I didn’t know how to play or even interact with kids because I struggled to walk and couldn’t keep up and was taller than everyone else. From there on, being tall has had some perks and many downfalls. To me, my grandma was as tall as the trees. Telling her all the time I wished to be as tall as her paid off. Following in her footsteps and realizing what she had gone through because she was tall was no walk in the park on a sunny day. The older I got, the more I was built and almost exactly like my grandmother. As told by my parents, I favored her more than either of them. Not only by height but by facial structures and the way we did certain things. For example, we both carry ourselves the same

I was not the average second grader. I definitely stood out in a crowd of classmates. I had abnormally large hands and feet, which took awhile for me to grow into. At the time, I was a stud at every sport I played; basketball, softball, soccer, and volleyball. Being tall had a positive side and many negative sides. For example, un-coordination and being made fun of is where it all began. Being eight and physically larger than every boy in the school was a little embarrassing and came with many rude comments. The teachers and counselors at school used to always tell me that the boys were just jealous, when they actually meant to say that I was just that tall and they understood why they made fun of