I’m short. I’m 5’2″. That might seem average to some women, really short for some guys, pretty tall for small children.
All I know is I can’t reach or see shit most of the time.
I can’t reach the top shelf at the grocery store if something isn’t right up front. I’ve caught people looking on in amusement to see if I start climbing the shelf or fall on my ass or what. Yea, thanks for you help there, pal. Luckily a couple times I’ve caught someone out of the corner of my eye, I turn my head and it’s a male employee with a slight smirk coming toward me saying, “Can I help you reach something?” I feel grateful, although embarrassed. To the ones that simply stand by, I say “I couldn’t afford a gym membership, that’s why I come to Wegmans and climb the shelves” and walk away.
I also get snickers when I’m at the drive-thru bank teller and I have to open the door and step one foot out to grab the pneumatic tube. I half expect the teller to say, “You OK little fella?” Bastid…
I can’t reach the shelf in my daughters’ bedroom. I have to get the taller one to help me, my younger daughter is cursed with my height.
I can’t reach wall displays in retail stores. I have to go get an associate to reach the one in my size. And I love it when they loudly announce, “There isn’t a 34DD up here ma’am, maybe I can find you a 34DD over there. Wait here’s a 34D, do you want to try that?” Thank you so much for announcing my bra size to the world. I can just imagine everyone cringing as they visualize (because you know they do) this 49 year old woman in just a bra. I feel their eyes piercing me.
I can’t trim bushes that go higher than a window sill. Ladders and long handled clippers aren’t a great help because I usually have to trim blind then. Rather than nice even bushes, I end up with unintended topiaries.
Some sexual acts are more difficult. I won’t go into it but just think about a short girl or girl with short legs with an average to tall guy. And please don’t visualize me in this endeavor.
If something rolls under the couch or bed, forget it.
Can’t reach under a sneeze guard while keeping my head above it.
I can’t scratch my own back past my shoulder blades. It’s rubbing against the ole corner of the wall if I have an itch any further down my back.
I can’t pull the cord on a combo light/fan fixture on the ceiling, so everything runs whether I want it to or not.
I have to hem everything.
It’s not all terrible… being short enables me to sit reasonably comfortable in an airplane seat or the back seat of a compact car.
And… ummmm… that’s about it.
Whatter’ ya’ gonna’ do, ya’ know? I just deal with it. Can’t change it. However you could cut me some slack and stop calling me, munchkin, shorty, peanut, and small fry. If you don’t I’ll just go with my new nickname for you… asshole.