Tuesday, 26 August 2008

• confessions of a short person.

  i'm a short person. yes, that i am. i stopped growing after sixth grade.
  
  let me recollect for a moment. i remember in sixth grade, i was one of the taller students in class. but by seventh grade, i was at average height. eighth grade, i was the midget. how did that happen!?

  i stand a bit past 5'1", but i'm not quite 5'2". for purposes of making myself feel taller, i say i'm 5'2" when people ask my height. but what does the one-fourth of an inch account for anyway when everyone just towers over me?

  being short, i've stumbled upon many obstacles.

  one: nearly everything needs to be reached for.
  take for example, a food market. suppose i am looking to get some mac & cheese. while strolling down the aisle with my shopping cart (i'll be humming (or quite possibly singing) to a song that is playing and replaying in my head), i stop in front of the plethora mac & cheese, and i see that the Velvetta mac & cheese is sitting on the very top shelf! i contemplate what to do.

  my first thought would be "stand in the shopping carriage, it will give me a few extra inches!" but the last thing i need is a repeat of my childhood where i am catapulted into a pyramid of canned corn.

  my next thought would be "i'll take those stairs that the employees use so i can get my mac & cheese!" and as i pull over the steps, i'll suddenly be ravaged by a mob of employess at the market asking me what the hell i am doing. then they'll blatently point at the "employees only" sign posted on the steps. oops.

  my final thought would be to look for the help of a dashingly tall, handsome man. i'll stand on my tippy-toes and my arms will be reached far above my head. then suddenly, handsome man (let's say jude law) sees short brenda, walks over, and says "do you need help getting this mac & cheese?" handsome man (hopefully jude law) will then stand directly behind me, hovering me, and he will then grab the box of mac & cheese. "this is for you, i believe." he'll say in his dashingly charming voice. my knees will become weak, and i will suddenly turn to mush as i fall onto the ground. as if i needed to get any closer to the floor than i already was. and thus will start a budding new romance, and i will live happily ever after with handsome man (quite possibly jude law).

  

  but i doubt that will happen any time soon.

  two: fearing the height requirement for rides at theme parks.
  yes. those dreaded height requirements. last month, i went to six flags with a few of my friends. our first point of destination: SUPERMAN. RIDE OF STEEL.

  i've been on this ride many many times. yet nonetheless, i still find the need to stand next to those height requirements just to say "YES. I AM TALL ENOUGH TO GO ON THE RIDE." even if i only passed the height requirement by one inch.

  

  my poor short friend yoda is not nearly as lucky as me.

  three: pants.
  yes. pants. as much as i enjoy wearings skirts, i do need to own pants for days where skirts may be unacceptable to wear due to a sudden change of weather.

  pants are rather tedious in the life of the short person. when buying pants, they are often sold for the "regular" heighted person. in some stores, there are pants specifically made for "short" people, "regular" people, and "tall" people. my search for pants, particularly jeans, tend to go towards "short", because "regular" will only make me trip, fall, and die.

  the other day, i walked into Wet Seal. i do particularly like the clothes they sell there, and their jeans are incredibly comfortable. i've never had much difficulty with their pants before. actually, last year when i went to buy their jeans, they only went an inch onto the ground. WINNER!

  i grabbed two pairs of flaired jeans made for the short person and went into the fitting room. in my mind, i was thinking "YES, i am going to blow away my paycheck on gas for my car and jeans! wowowoooo!" but then, i put on a pair of jeans, and... WHAT! they're three inches onto the ground?!

  did short people suddenly grow or am i just shrinking?

  you might be thinking, "why don't you just get the pants tailored?" but the issue with that is, if i try to cut the bottom of my pants, it will then lose its flaired touch. and i might as well just buy skinny jeans then. (but i'm not a big fan of skinny jeans, so that really isn't an option.)

  cutting off the flair on flaired pants is like taking the mint off of the word spearmint. then what is a person left with? oh, a spear.

  who wants a spear when they could've had spearmint?!

  and thus, i was on the search for pants once again. Wet Seal, you phailed me.

  four: my head is not an arm-rest.
  yes. it happens. i will be surrounded by a bunch of people at average height, and then someone will decide "wow, brenda's head is the perfect height for an arm rest."

  so what do they do? they lay their arm on top of my head. "ahh, this is so comfortable. brenda, don't move!"

  er. i'm glad i had some purpose in life. being an arm-rest.

  --

  

  michelle told me last night that i'm just like a chihuahua. small in size, big on sound.

  thanks michelle, i love you, too.

  --

  despite the many qualms i've listed about being short, i love it. the past five years of my life, i've been distinguished as "the short one", that i can't help but live any other way.

  i'll stand on a ladder, and be incredibly amazed. "whoaaaah, so THIS is how you tall people see things, eh?"

  even though i can't reach most of the things i want, even though i am incredibly aware of height requirements, even though pants aren't always my size, even though my head is constantly an arm-rest, or even though i was compared to a chihuahua..

  i wouldn't have it any other way.

  i'm like those fun-sized candy bars. except not a candy bar.

  have fun carrying me away.

  --

  *does a happy dance inside*

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