I wish I grew taller. When I was a little kid, I thought all adults grew to at least five foot nine inches, alas I only grew to be five foot one and a half – I usually round this up to five foot two.
Why was being tall a goal for me? Supermodels are six foot tall and most basketball players are up in the stratosphere. I didn’t want be either of those? Perhaps, I just want the pride. My little sister is as tall as my mom (five foot four).
She sure does rub it in, starting constant measurements standing back to back. And, I wouldn’t blame her, because being short can really suck!
I can’t see over anything . . . It has always been a struggle to see the world; it’s always blocked by someone’s head or a low wall. I have to squint to see the top of the fridge. I stretch my neck to see rivers in the park over tall grates on bridges.
Step stools are kind of a hassle . . . Whenever I want to reach something, without doing some complex arm stretching tippy toe gymnastics; I have to grab a step stool. And, they are always a hassle. First, you have to find it or wait until someone is finished with it. If, you use a chair, dragging to the fridge or spice cabinet will always be loud and indiscreet.
The stairs. I envy tall people on stairs; they never have to get up close and personal with climbers’ backsides.
These are the everyday problems shorter people have.
I’ll never be able to model for the big brands or play basketball. Despite these disadvantages, I realized that being me is the best I can do. Who needs basketball? When I can write columns for my local newspaper!
I can sound really quiet when I walk, like a little ninja. And, I hear short people make the best little spoon. Whether you’re short or tall, be who you are.
You can’t do everything, but you can be yourself.
Five foot tall: a short column on being short