I’m an eighteen-year-old girl with a height of 4’11”. I’m not ashamed of that because I know I cannot change it. I’ve never been tall, always “the short girl.” This has never been a major problem for me (except when it comes to high shelves at grocery stores). The problem reveals itself when other people think I can’t do something because I’m short.
Being short has some wonderful perks! Hugging me is like hugging a large puppy, you never have to worry about not being able to see over me, and if you sit behind me while I’m driving you’ll have more than enough leg room. On top of that, packing for a trip takes less space than you’d think, I’m the best at hiding from people, and I spend less on clothes because I purchase them from the children’s section at stores.
However, like all things in life, there are a few downsides to my height. It’s not easy to scale the shelves of Walmart because the blue Powerade is out of reach, it’s a struggle to climb into my friend’s large trucks, and I hate hearing any variation of the phrase, “You’re done growing? That’s sad.”
It’s not sad. Are you done growing? Why isn’t that sad? Just because there’s less of me as a person doesn’t mean I’m any less of a person. Of course I wish I could be taller, but dreams don’t always come true. I’ve grown used to the hand I’ve been dealt, which is why it’s so disappointing to hear people talk about how I should be taller. How ridiculous would it be if I started telling people that their eyes should be blue even though they’re brown? It hurts that people think I’m not good enough or I can’t accomplish something because I’m short. I wish more than anything that others could see me as more than my height. I love who I am even if I may not love certain parts of myself.
“Life’s too short, I’m not.” -Kristin Chenoweth
