The truth is that I don’t really mind being short most of the time, and the more weight I lose, the better I enjoy my diminutive stature. It’s not that rough. I'm more flexible and wiry now. I can kick up over my head when I do Tae-Bo. OK, to the giants among us, that means I can kick up to your stomach, but come on, you are slightly impressed, you know you are.
I can get around with ease most of the time. I particularly love those signs that tell people to duck down so they won’t hit their heads on the stairs, etc. I almost never have to duck down to fit anywhere, and I don’t often bang my head on low-hanging chandeliers either. Plus I don’t block other people’s views at the theatre because I usually leave my booster seat at home. OK, that’s a joke. I don’t own a booster seat, but I confess that I have thought about purchasing one.
However, there are moments like grocery shopping where it’s not all that fun being height challenged. I’ve gotten creative in recent months with getting supplies off of the top shelf at Meijer. I mean, I can’t wait around all day for some tall person to rescue me. Now some of my friends may say that I’m missing the opportunity to appear helpless to some tall, single male shopper who might happen along and be dreaming of meeting a single smallish female afraid of heights who needs help with getting things off the top shelves. But come on, the “damsel in distress” thing is over-used these days, and I’m no actress. I’m not afraid to ask for help when I need it or accept it when it is offered, but if I can come up with a solution on my own, I will do it. I’m creatively independent that way. I’ve been known to use a spatula or another product to aid me in retrieving my favorite salad dressing, and just try putting those granola bars out of my reach—I’ll find a way to get to them anyway.
And let’s not forget the joys of air travel. I love to fly, but those overhead bins are not made for people like me. I try to keep my carry-on bag small so that I can just keep it at my feet instead. After all, I don’t need the leg room since my feet barely touch the floor. In the past, I’ve had to resort to some interesting tactics to retrieve my bag from the back of those compartments, and so those bins scare me. It’s like a black hole. (shiver)
So sure, there are disadvantages on both sides of the height world, I suppose. Yes, I always thought it would be nice to be a bit taller, but at present, I rather like being me, even if I am just a squirt, a shrimp, a hobbit-sized person.
1. I don’t think height, any more than money, truly buys happiness. I think happiness is a choice, a mind set. It's an option open to all of us -- every day, every moment
2. I don’t believe that taller people are necessarily smarter. I think it’s just a rumor. I’m not a MENSA candidate myself, but I’m not a complete idiot either.
But just in case there is some truth to this study, I’ve now sworn off men that are under 6 feet tall because I want to give any future offspring a fighting chance for height. Sorry, but I just don’t think smaller stature men should apply for the role. To my fellow petites, I know it may seem selfish of me to discriminate against my own kind especially since I am a card-carrying member of the pint-sized league, but my only thoughts are for my children. I have to put them first.
Disclaimer: The author admits that the use of sarcasm was copiously used in this article, and she begs your tolerance with her choice of expression.
**If we shadows have offended,
Think but this, and all is mended,
That you have but slumber'd here
While these visions did appear.
And this weak and idle theme,
No more yielding but a dream,
Gentles, do not reprehend:
If you pardon, we will mend...**
**Taken from Puck’s final monologue in William Shakespeare’s masterpiece: A Midsummer Night’s Dream, Act 5, Scene 1
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