Sigh, I'm Normal

  I measured my wingspan today. Seventy-one inches. Or, just a bit longer than my height, which is what it should be. I was secretly hoping to find out my wingspan was like 6’ 6”, and I could lament the fact that if only I’d known sooner, I’d be in the NBA right now. As if a freakish wingspan is what’s been keeping me from pro basketball glory and not my height, lack of desire (or work ethic) and the fact that my shot is as flat as a midwestern girl’s hair. Before the measurement I wanted to learn that I had either an especially wide chest or comically long arms, praying for the latter. But neither is true.
  Having a massive wingspan is to your benefit when you get to the NBA. For example, Kevin Durant is 6’ 10”, but his wingspan is close to 7’ 5”. Every scouting report on Durant mentions his wingspan; it’s something that defines him as a player. I think this could explain why people say that someone “plays bigger” than they are. Like I’m 5’ 9”, but I play like I’m 5’ 11”. My length really frustrates 4th graders.
  I need to figure out what makes me unique. And I don’t want to hear, “your sparkling personality” or “you just ooze masculinity”, because we both know neither is true. Also, when looking for unique characteristics, they need to be quantifiable. Like you can point to Kevin Durant and say “the dude’s hands nearly scrape the floor when he walks”, or that Michael Phelps can touch his toes to the ground with his legs flat against the floor (truthfully).
  What have I got going for me besides the fact that I’ve lost all feeling in one of toes (which is not something people can easily recognize)? I need something like laser beam eyes; something people can acknowledge about me right away. Something I can bring up in job interviews: My strengths? The ability to shoot lasers from my ocular glands. Weakness? I’ve cried during the movie “Love Actually”.
  Maybe I’m not that normal.