The Battle of the Seats: Manspreading and the Tall Girl Takeover
Manspreading. Ah, the delightful art of a bloke on public transport assuming his legs are as far apart as his ego. You can practically hear the “lad” defending his territory while my morning coffee slowly spills across my lap! Yet, one brave woman has spoken up about her right to *her* space. And let me tell you, it’s about time! The Cambridge Dictionary needs to get its act together; they’re lacking a definition for ‘womanspreading’ where *we* reclaim some space too!
This particular woman, at a glorious *5ft 11in,* plays the height card with finesse after years of squishing herself into the corners of public transport like a sardine in a can. Remember those days? A MAN would burst onto a bus, spreading his limbs like a peacock – “Look at me, I’m the king of the jungle!” Meanwhile, our tall heroine here would do the unthinkable—stretch elegantly but apologetically against the window. Oh, the noble sacrifices tall women make just to avoid some poor sod taking a kick to the shins!
She tells us of the mortifying moments: facing the relentless assault of unsolicited height commentary. “How’s the air up there?” they’d say, oblivious to her desperate wish to simply blend into the background. And let’s face it, being the ‘tall girl’ isn’t quite the glorious position some might assume. Instead of drawing admiration, she was left standing out like a sore thumb in a world that thought tall girls should either be modeling or dunking hoops. No pressure, right?
Now, when she was *900 months pregnant*—which is, let’s be honest, just code for “I could crush your hopes and dreams with a single glare”—she managed not to infringe on public seating etiquette, even as her body waged its own war for comfort. Can we just give her a round of applause? You know what I’m talking about: sitting like a pretzel when you just want to *womanspread* with pride!
And of course, as she grew older, her height was a superpower in disguise! Sneaking into 18-certificate movies at 14? Brilliant! But it also crept in a new set of insecurities. The much-loved ‘heroin chic’ era wasn’t exactly friendly to ladies who stood tall. “Stand up straight!” and “Don’t slouch!” weighed heavier than the weight of the world as she felt the pressure to conform to decades of warped beauty standards. Meanwhile, boys reveled in their height—“Look at me, I can reach the top shelf without breaking a sweat!” And here she was just trying to not to be a walking-comedy show.
Fast forward to today, and suddenly the world is embracing diversity—sure, just throw in some body positivity and there you have it! Our tall girl is getting her groove on, no longer playing hide-and-seek with her height. The best bit? She’s decided that *womanspreading* is now part of her daily commute. And honestly, amen to that! Forget the apology; she’s taking up all the space. Let’s have a moment of silence for all the past tall girls on public transport who played the gentle, passive role when they could have been reclaiming the legroom properly.
Motherhood—yeah, the great final exam of life—has taught her that her body isn’t what society dictates it should be. It’s a bit like a lovable sofa: slightly worn yet comfortable, full of history and character! Now as a 41-year-old woman, she’s got the confidence to put those legs out and claim a seat without an ounce of shame. It’s positively revolutionary! Women, gather ’round—let’s bring on the age of taking up space; we’re not going down quietly anymore!
In conclusion—let’s reclaim public transport from the war of the seats. If a man can spread his legs, why shouldn’t a woman own her area too? So the next time you see someone ‘manspreading,’ be the beacon of hope and encourage a little ‘womanspreading’ in return! Because let’s face it, we all deserve to take up space—tall or small, reclined or spread wide! And don’t worry; if we’re sharing space on the bus together, I promise, I won’t kick you in the shins… unless you take up both armrests!
This cheeky commentary sunglasses the reader, gracefully discussing the nuances of ‘manspreading’ and the unbreakable spirit of tall women reclaiming their space, all while staying sharp, observational, and just the right amount of whimsical.
Manspreading – the practice of a man expanding his legs when seated, particularly on public transportation, resulting in a reduction of space for fellow passengers. This behavior often causes frustration, especially as it perpetuates a narrative around entitlement to public space.
The Cambridge Dictionary lacks a parallel term for women occupying space in the same manner, highlighting a notable discrepancy. Many women, including myself, are exhausted from minimizing our presence and feeling the need to apologize for merely existing in public spaces.
At 5ft 11in, I have always towered over the average Irish woman, who stands around 5ft 5in, while men typically reach about 5ft 10in. Known as “the tall girl” throughout my life, I often felt conspicuous. While I squished myself against the window on crowded public transport, men comfortably spread their legs beside me, seemingly unfazed. This contrast fed into an internal struggle regarding my physical presence.
During my pregnancy in 2016, while feeling like a beached whale, I recall struggling to close my legs on public transport due to the overwhelming weight of my baby. Despite my predicament, I still felt compelled not to occupy the adjacent seat. Reflecting on that time, perhaps I should have embraced the space I needed, but for most of my life, I’ve battled discomfort in claiming extra room.
For most of my life, I’ve heard countless quips about my height, such as “How’s the air up there?” These remarks, intended to amuse, only enhanced my desire to blend into the background. While boys enjoyed the spotlight their height brought, for me, it was a source of discomfort, fostering an urge to shrink away. With each glance and comment I received, it was clear that towering above the other girls marked me as different, and not in a way that felt positive.
As I matured, being tall had its perks, particularly when I was allowed independence on Saturday outings. I often faced scrutiny over my age—was I indeed old enough for a child fare? Shopping, particularly for clothes, became an exercise in frustration, as finding jeans long enough proved nearly impossible. It was not uncommon for brands to limit their offerings to size seven, leaving me to either settle or miss out entirely on options I desired.
Throughout my teenage years, I was frequently told I could pursue modeling or basketball, but those comparisons felt misguided. I never identified with the athletic prowess of a star player or the fashion image of a runway model. During a time fixated on “heroin chic,” the societal expectation drifted towards ultra-thin models, imposing increasing pressure on me to conform to unrealistic standards.
As a form of self-acceptance, I gravitated toward sports that not only celebrated my height but also provided a sense of belonging. Engaging in various activities—hockey, sprinting, swimming—allowed me to appreciate my body, marking the first time I felt at peace with my stature rather than in conflict with it.
My tall frame often worked to my advantage; as I aged, looking older became appealing. I reveled in the ability to purchase eighteen-plus movie tickets at fourteen and experiment with a little mischief in procuring Bacardi Breezers. Height turned into an occasional superpower, a tool I could wield at will.
Growing up in the 1990s, being tall wasn’t synonymous with body positivity. The cultural narrative of the time left little room for acceptance of uniqueness, where perceptions of beauty narrowly defined those who fell outside standard norms. Public figures like Kate Winslet faced scrutiny over their bodies, and the media often showcased criticism rather than support, carving a path filled with challenges for girls like me.
Fast forward two decades, and the landscape has shifted dramatically. Today, body diversity has cemented itself as a valued aspect of our daily lives. I now find my height barely raises an eyebrow, even if I occasionally hear surprise from those meeting me in person after interacting through screens. The societal embrace of taller women inspires a fresh wave of confidence, one that allows girls to take the space they deserve without hesitation.
Motherhood, ironically, has been the greatest catalyst for my healing journey. It’s fascinating that only now, with a body marked by scars and imperfections, do I genuinely feel comfortable in my own skin and enjoy my physicality.
Today, I refuse to shrink away, whether on public transport or elsewhere. I counteract manspreading with my own brand of “womanspreading,” and at the age of 41, I embrace the joy of taking up space, despite no longer being deemed “the tallest girl” in the room.
