When you’re this tall, it becomes a deeply entrenched part of who you are. You become separate, or at least you think of yourself that way. At loud parties, you need to find a stool if you want to hear anything anybody says; otherwise, you’re a disembodied head floating a foot above the crowd. Your clothes will not fit as well as other people’s clothes, and you will be acutely aware of that fact at all times. In certain American cities, large crowds of children will just bust up laughing when they see you coming. (Baltimore, you are forever my home and I love you, but sometimes fuck you.) And if you spend enough time looking at the Wikipedia pages of past famous giants, you will start to think of yourself as doomed.
I wrote about the great giant wrestler Paul Wight, and generally about being very tall, for the Classical. I think It’s one of the best things I’ve ever written.
