Nobody puts baillee in the corner

Height wise, I fall somewhere between 5’9 and 5’10. Although I would often cry a la Jessie Spano about being the tall girl in school and that I would never get asked out, I learned to appreciate my height. Don’t worry, I still don’t get asked out, but it isn’t because of my height. Usually. Although it is that’s why my therapist did. But I digress. One of the most traumatizing experiences for a tall girl, in my humble opinion, is going to a nail salon. Why you might ask? I’m about to tell you what it’s like to be the tall girl at the nail salon through the five stages of grief.

Denial: They clearly are getting the chairs in the waiting area reupholstered, so they are borrowing chairs from the nearest wee school. It makes total sense. The granite tables the nail technician (shout out to Juno’s stepmom and Alison Janey in general. She’s a classy broad) must also be getting reupholstered, so they too must be on loan from the wee school.

Anger: WHY THE HELL ARE THE TABLES THIS LOW? THERE GOES ANY CHANCE I HAVE OF WEARING A DRESS   LATER BECAUSE MY KNEES ARE MORE BLACK AND BLUE THAN THAT BACKSTREET BOYS ALBUM. HOW DO I KNOW THAT IS A BACKSTREET BOYS ALBUM OFF THE TOP OF MY HEAD? WHY IS MY CHAIR THIS LOW TO THE GROUND? I MIGHT AS WELL BE SITTING IN THE FLOOR FOR SHOW AND TELL BACK AT THE WEE SCHOOL.

Bargaining: Please don’t tell anyone I’m this tall. Or have long fingers. Or just cried and yelled out a profanity when my knee slammed into the table. Maybe the sandals I’m wearing are adding a couple of inches. Yeah, that’s it. It’s totally my flat sandals. Please bump up this chair a little bit so that people will think it’s the chair and not me. Or we can use the waxing room to do my nails. I’ll let you wax whatever you want so that we’re not lying. Come on.

Depression: He’s probably making fun of my big feet and hands with his friends. That’s totally what they’re saying. I’m never going to find love or take that trip. This is all life has to offer. They discontinued Count Chocula cereal as a sign of my childhood withering and dying. Plus that purple isn’t quite as dark as I wanted it to be.

Acceptance: Don’t mind me inferior short people, I’m just getting my chair extended so that I can stretch out. Why yes, I can pull off stiletto nails because my fingers are long. Yes, I did notice how the wee school furniture gives the illusion of my legs being longer. No, I don’t know who the girl screaming, bartering, and crying about cereal was. She should definitely get over the fact her therapist turned her down and go in for a session though.