Attack Of The 6 Foot Woman - Revisted.

Niggaz.. betta grab a seat
Grab on your dick as this bitch gets deep
Deeper than the pussy of a bitch six feet . . . - Lil Kim

THE FACTS:
I am 6 feet tall - a size 18 -and I wear a size 11 shoe. On most days I wear boots/shoes with 2 to 3 inch heels. I am busty - bossy- and bold. My clothes and language are colorful. I don’t talk loud - but my voice tends to carry. No matter where I go - I never blend in and I am always noticed. And for these reasons - I just aint to good at being sneaky. And because people are so very aware of my presence - I am ultra aware of theirs. I can peep out everything about a person in 2 seconds flat. Yes- the air is madd clear up here in the land of the 6 foot amazons.

YESTERDAY . . .
All of my life I have been a measuring stick to the male gender. Through out elementary - middle school and high school - young- bird chested - boys would come stand next to me - shoulder to shoulder - hoping they had gained some height on me over the summer break. “I’m almost as tall as you, Angelique” . . . almost.

In high school I dated college guys because they seemed to be less intimidated by me. I was tall and “developed” and for this reason I believe my attitude was more mature than the average teenager. I intimidated high school boys. I guess they figured because I am tall I would to be some big-bully-lady of rage -type bitch. They must of thought I’d be able to kick their ass if I didn’t like the way our dating process was flowing. I’ve always been know for my take no bullshit attitude, but I am just as tender and sensitive as the next female. I don’t consider myself to be “man-ish” in any form of fashion.

TODAY . . .
Not much has changed. Men are still intimidated by my height and size. When I open up my mouth and get to politic’n on some real and diverse conversation - the intimidation grows. As soon as they learn I can do pretty much anything they can do - it’s really over with. Brothas get to running for the hill - streets - they baby momma - the welfare office. . .

I’m familiar with the mentality. And I do not take it personal. I know that I am tall and beautiful inside and out. Or at least I strive to be. I know one day some fearless soul is going to come along and have me purring like a kitten. He will recognize that my height does not challenge his masculinity and I am not a threat to his “manhood”. Until then - I will continue to keep shopping for more stilettos and checking these weaklings. Besides - I feel like a big doofus most flat heeled shoes. It just aint me.

SPEAKING FROM EXPERIENCE:
One thing I have noticed is that is the tall basketball playing brothers that don’t want to give me any action. I don’t get that? I have some theories but it would require to much time to break it down properly. Short men on the other hand generally don’t have a problem approaching me.

SHORT MEN:
Short men adore me. I guess they feel I’m a challenge. Their bodies may be frail and small - but the ego and determination are of large proportions. They appreciate my beauty. They want to be cradled in my arms, while they nuzzle my bosom. They want me to talk to them like a baby and give them advice. In the bedroom - they want to break me down - but I just can’t picture myself twisted up in a pretzel - sweating and moaning and calling some little mans name. From my experience, the same things they want from me - they can’t give in return. I can only withstand so much oral pleasure before I was some rough a rugged - manly - ass smacking - hair pulling type shit. I can’t be unleashed if I feel like I’m lying in the bed with my son! That would feel just plain ol’ wrong. I can’t ride you little man! My 6 foot frame will crush you and you will never ever been the same. This may be Fantasy Island - but I’m not in need of another Tattoo.

It is not that short men aren’t attractive. I see plenty of fine men that are shorter than me. It almost makes me wish I could shrink down to size and maybe I would find my soul mate. I’ve met some shorter men with great personalities and the mental capacity to keep me intrigued. But that height and weight difference always lingers in the back of my head.

Maybe I’m missing out? Or . . .maybe not.

THE BOTTOM LINE IS:
When meeting a potential suitor, I envision a teeter-totter in my head. If I am on one end of the teeter-totter and he is on the other - are both sides balanced? If his legs are dangling high in the air - like Michael Jackson’s baby’s legs were hanging over that banister in Berlin. - then I can’t fuck with him. Period.

It’s a cold world, huh? Just like I’m not approached for being considered too tall or too fat, I’m rejecting brothers for being to short. I guess that’s the way it is. I’m just trying to get in where I fit in.