Don't call me Tall

How would you react if you were going about your life, minding your own business and a complete stranger butted in with "Wow! You're really fat has anyone ever told you that before?"
Or what about if you were having coffee with some friends and someone came up to you out of the blue with "Whoa, that is one huge nose you have there! It's like really HUGE!" or even "Jeez! Look at your freckles! You have so many freckles! That is like a seriously large amount of FRECKLES!"
It is quite plain that commenting to someone unrelated and unknown to you about their large ass, their huge honker or their overly spotted skin is completely inappropriate and downright rude. It is entirely unacceptable for complete strangers to comment on someone's physical appearance in such an intrusive and confronting manner.
And how would you react if these sorts of thrillingly un-insightful and unwelcome comments were thrown at you every time you ordered coffee, in the supermarket, at the bus stop, in the change room while buying clothes, in the line while buying popcorn for the movies, while out having drinks with friends, on the dance floor, on a date, in the office, in the elevator, at the bookstore - in a word EVERYWHERE everyday of your life?
How do you think you would start to feel about your large ass, your huge honker or your overly spotted skin? A bit self-conscious? Just a bit!
I am 6ft tall, darling. 185cm.
How do you think it makes me feel that every time I go anywhere the public feel it is permissible for them to interject with a dim-witted dialect on how tall I am.
I am aware I am tall.
I have been tall all my life.
I am not responsible for my tallness. This is how I was born.
It is a physical feature that I am not 100% comfortable with and don't appreciate being made to feel like a freak every time I grace the public with my presence.
I went to a concert and the girl standing behind me was bitching in a loud voice to her equally dull friend about the "big tall freak in front of us! People like that should be made to stand at the back".
I turned around and articulately reminded this short person - I was born tall. I have been tall all my life. I didn't just this afternoon decide to grow tall just to annoy her at a concert. My tallness is out of my control. Her bad attitude, bitterness and general waste of space are, however, totally within her control. And perhaps she should work on amending her bland personality instead of trying to change the colour of the sky.
It has reached the point where it is shaking my ability to make a party. Name me one pair of respectable Jimmy Choos, Peep Toes, Manolos or Louboutins that don't have a decent stiletto? It is as if I, as someone of some stature, cannot don a delectable plimsoll without having to hire a bodyguard to block the barrage of abuse and criticisms about my height.
A message to the public : Don't call me Tall. If you must speak, try first to research and rehearse something vaguely thought-provoking to impart to validate your presence at the party.
I am Tall. That is how I roll.