Shorty

Finally! The proof is in the puddin'!!! Being of SHORT stature ain't so bad.

In the two point five decades of my consciousness on this planet, I've accepted the hard life lessons that a person of a mere 5'2" must face: that I must always look up; that I am always acutely aware of my physical limitations; and that I don't get to be considered for a runway gig during fashion week, nor play point guard in the WNBA, nor be able to access the items on the upper shelves of my kitchen cabinets.

Living life as a taller person's armrest wasn't easy. I was always the only kid in class whose feet didn't touch the floor when sitting. I had to go on the kiddie teacup rides to get some semblance of jollies while all of my friends went on the big roller coasters, because I fell pathetically short of their height requirements. When I won a gold medal at a figure skating competition and I would stand to receive it atop the medal podium, the second and third place finishers still appeared taller than me, despite my extra foot of elevation. I got picked last for all teams in elementary school gym class because the small-minded children were of the opinion that my height created a disadvantage. (My gym teacher, bless her heart, stood up for me and yelled at all the kids saying, 'you better watch out, someday she's gonna be taller than all of you!') I was always at the end of the synchronized skating team pinwheels (think Rockettes kick-line if you don't know). The centripetal force of the spinning pinwheel was often too much for my diminutive arms, and I would lose my grip and end up in a heap after crashing into the boards at the local skating rink.

The first time my boyfriend and I had a conversation, he classified me as 'three apples high.' It is still his description of choice in reference to me, his 'shorty'.

I took it all in - short - stride, I suppose. But none of that matters now, because I got the genes to outlive all of you tall sonsabitches. (Barring accidental premature death in a freak tractor accident.) And I'm going to enjoy that life because I can adapt to overcome the limitations my stature places upon me. I have hardcore battle scars from my synchro skating days that make me look 'tough.' I don't want a modeling gig anyway, because I'd prefer to retain my individuality, my own sense of fashion (however distorted it may seem to the mainstream) and my eating habits. I think the sport of basketball is boring compared to most other sports in which I could engage myself. And I keep either a step-stool or a tall person around to get the hard-to-reach stuff. When I was in high school, a short friend of mine and I created a 'short person intimidation stare,' an icy upward glance that automatically instilled fear in the hearts of anyone over 5'5".

I believe my elders have adapted in much the say way. I come from a short family on both sides. My grandparents and great aunts and great uncles average about 5'0" in height, and about 90 years in lifespan. My Great Aunt Rae lived 99.5 years at 4'11". But the study of genes linked to longevity in short humans aside, I think what's more important for short people is to make themselves bigger in ways that belie their physical height.

And besides, one could NEVER tell that I was standing on an apple cart during my TV reporter stand-ups.