Up until late in high school, I was a very short guy. I was second in line for my elementary school graduation ceremony. The ceremony involved marching down the aisle and then organizing into rows on a stage, so there was some mechanic to the shortest people being in front, but that was small consolation (ha!) to those of us in the front of the line. We all felt like flower girls.
I didn't get picked for kickball teams, and my short-but-exciting basketball experiences in high school was more Charlie Chaplin than Michael Jordan. I was staring at girls chests starting in junior high school, unfortunately not because of puberty but because they had all grown up and I hadn't. You really can't appreciate the plight of the small person until you realize how many unpleasant containers, frequently lockable, are exactly their size and how many truly diabolic people are large enough to take advantage of that fact.
But despite the incessant penalties of being height-challenged, there were a handful of benefits. Short people have less weight to hold them down. I was always able to easily scale fences, signposts, walls, and anything I could get a tiny hold on. Short people almost never bump their heads on anything. They find far more things lying on the ground. Short people always keep their chins up.
Somewhere around 15, my body punched the Nitro on my HGH and I sprung up about a foot. Suddenly I could reach the fourth shelf. My running speed became unreal. The additional altitude gave me new vistas, including an instant classic - cleavage. Travelling through crowds changed from a slalom through shifting, unsympathetic meat walls to cruising at 50,000 feet, enjoying the flight.
It took me a few years to tune into a subtle side-effect of this growth. Because of the severity of my change in height, I had developed a new center of balance and I was no longer as agile as I had been. All my muscles had been trained to operate a sub five-foot body and upgrading to just under six had made me significantly more clumsy. Imagine wearing one-foot platform shoes for the rest of your life, starting now, and you'll get some idea of how I have felt.
Worst of all, falling had acquired all new dimensions. When you're only a couple of feet off the ground, it's no big deal to tumble or go sprawling. Jump that up a bit and you find you're hitting quite a bit harder. I used to be good friends with the ground. Whatever might have happened, the floor was always right there for me, and popping back up was a snap. It may sound silly, but I miss that.
It was in the shower this morning that I realized that this experience resonated far deeper than I had been, or wanted to be, aware of.
Posted by Matt at August 16, 2004 12:00 PMMatt - great post! i REALLY liked this entry!
C'mon, I can't be the only person aside from sir baggins who fits under the shower head by just leaning my head back!?! I have found the real danger lies in trying to step out of the shower over a tub wall which is taller than my crotch. I must admit, I too thought about my height in that shower before. I feel big in that shower, I can touch the ceiling and the shower head is right at my height. The best part of Matt's shower is watching Matt try to squat under that air powered spray of testy scalding then suddenly icy water. That is good times.
Posted by: rose at August 19, 2004 09:53 AMHahah! Liz, you hit it right on the nail with that one. I am constantly shocked that no one has slipped and tumbled to their doom whiltst trying to get their head under the faucet head of Matt's shower...
Hahaha! Frodo Baggins! Hahaha!
funny...i always think about my height when i'm in your shower too... it must be the shower of inspiration. either that or its the fact that only frodo baggins could shower comfortably there. hmm. we need new shows. NOW.
Posted by: liz at August 18, 2004 12:25 AMMatt, only you would find a way to have a short- and tall-man's complex all at once.
Posted by: K at August 16, 2004 07:32 PM