...thursday talk: tall, chapter 1

Tina Fey and her husband, Jeff Richmond
It's time we talked about height.

Last night, Tina Fey received the Mark Twain award for American Humour at the Kennedy Center. That's quite the honour and she certainly deserves it. I don't laugh out loud during 30 Rock as much as I used to, but I still think she's brilliant. How evil am I that all I could think of when I saw this picture is how short her husband is?

I'm Filipino, we're not tall people. If I stand up straight I'm 5 feet tall. When I was 16, I dated a boy who was my height -- popular guy, great dancer, my parents hated him -- so he was perfect. When the relationship ended, I didn't give him another thought. May he rest in peace.

At 18, I met this guy ... wow. We had nothing in common but chemistry, and chemistry's a bitch. He was a year younger, athletic, handsome, witty, unpredictable, sarcastic, moody, adorable, infuriating. Naturally I fell so crazy in love with him that I couldn't see straight. I certainly couldn't do homework. All I wanted to do was sit on his lap, put my arms around his neck and kiss his perfect face. (It was the dawn of the 80's and we were foolishly, perfectly chaste. Honest.) He was 7 feet tall, so this was the only way we could see eye to eye. Actually he was 6'1" but I put him on such a pedestal he might as well have been 7'. To make a tall story short, the universe did everything in its power for me and this guy to never get together. He married someone nearly as tall as he.

Thus, my obsession with heels.

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