Trials and Tribulations of the Vertically Challenged

For the last week or so, I have not been thinking so much about school. Or the future. Or the Redsox (Okay. Maybe a little).

I've been thinking about being short.

Maybe it's because my height has indirectly come up several times recently. My apartment is a great kind of symmetry of blondes and brunettes, tall, average, and short. Of course, I am the shortest. But the first time I ever realized I was small? Kindergarten. The fourth graders were doing some kind of math project on measurement, and decided to use my kindergarten class as data. So they measured each of us against the wall, and later the week, came in to announce the results. Two students, a boy and a girl, tied for tallest. And guess who was the shortest. "Maria Papapietro." The kids laughed. I came home at the end of the day and cried. Yes, I can remember this. I am still only mildly scarred from the experience.

But my stature has its perks. Hide and seek? I always won. Those smalls spaces. And then there were all those years of soccer. In my case, short = speed. I certainly wasn't the most aggressive player. But if I had a breakaway, a goal was almost guaranteed because no one could catch me. A few weeks back, I bought a dress from Gap Kids. Yup. Kind of embarrassing, but considering the selection in the women's section has been lacking in my opinion for the last couple of years, this opens up a whole new world for me on the shopping front. And it's a dang cute dress.

But there are the downsides. At the bars. They scan my ID. They look at me. They scan it again. Look at me again. Scan again. About two more looks. What do they expect me to do, morph into a toddler? Yes, I am twenty-one. And 5'1. It happens.

Sometimes, being short compromises my safety. Particularly in situations involving squishing many people into one car. "Maria can just lie across everyone in the back." Essentially, this means I end up in some kind of bent headstand position.

And tonight, my roomie of average height was trying to reach glasses in the cabinet. "Dang, Maesie (my other lovely, 5'10 roommate) must have put these away!" she panted. For a minute, she understood my life as a bottom shelf-er.

But being short is only a piece of my puzzle. And I'm embracing it. I encourage all of you to love yourselves today, however you are!