Ok, so I am not famed for my height.
At 5 foot 2 and a very important half inch, I am not the world's tallest person.
However, I seem to go through life relatively unscathed by my shortness. Yes, I am forever regarded as 'cute', which doesn't bother me now so much as when I was a pouting teenager and wanted to be 'sexy' (because if course pouting and sulking is really sexy behaviour generally).
I have suffered much mockage for my smallness over the years. But then again, I figure if people don't have something obvious to mock, it's worse, because then they start looking!
Mr Big, being a commendable 6 feet, relishes every mockage opportunity, so my height presents the perfect example. He often uses me as a resting post. Or laughs as I try to reach things (even our kitchen cupboards require me to leap onto the kitchen workshop in order to reach the top shelves). I say 'leap'. That is more like 'heave', post baby, but you catch my drift.
Mr Big did try and show kindness one day. He thought I would find it helpful and 'easier to reach things' if he bought me a set of steps. Yes. Steps. For my kitchen.
Oh dear lord. I think at this point it's fair to say I realised my being 'sexy' had long disappeared.
To top it off, unbeknown to Mr Big, he had actually bought the exact same set of steps my Nan had in her kitchen.
My Nan, on the other hand, thought it was hilarious that we now had matching steps. And very good steps they were too, as they neatly folded away when not in use, as my Nan highlighted!
I did also once have a slightly embarrassing episode at school that was height-related. Aside from the obvious cringe-worthy length of all new school uniforms that you desperately hope you will actually 'grow into' as you set off to 'big school' with all sorts of hopes and dreams, and a uniform so long you can barely walk. Needless to say I never did grow into mine. I just learned I could roll it up. Yep, back to being sexy. Sure that looked really sophisticated.
Anyhow, this particular incident involved a girl a few years older these me who went to the same school and lived opposite me in our street. We were therefore technically 'friends'. By friends, I mean she was older and therefore automatically not only superior but also light years cooler than me in every way. For example, she had boobs, when I was still kidding myself that something might appear on my chest and insisting my Mum bought me crop-tops to house them when they grew. And this girl hung around with boys (I went to an all girls school, so this was no easy feat). Because our parents knew each other though, she was obliged to befriend me and therefore I could take on some of her coolness by default. Or so I thought.
It was all going so well. She would stop and say hi to me in front of my new friends. And she would sometimes catch the same bus in as me so we would chat at the bus stop, or if I was really lucky, even on the bus. And I had an ally in the years above, so was sure to be safe from the bullies. I was über cool. And my new friends were impressed.
That was until I saw her walking down the corridor a few weeks later. By now I was confident of our friendship and felt cock-sure enough of the solidarity of our connection that I called her name out, rather loudly, and frankly for me, boldly, down the corridor so as to say 'hi' and reaffirm my cool status.
Only she didn't see me. She turned, looked around and then continued on her way as if she hadn't seen me at all. Unperturbed I called again. Same response. So finally a third time. Still nothing. This was in danger of becoming embarrassing as my coolness points were dropping faster than a tonne of concrete. So I did what was probably not that cool, looking back. I ran, yes, RAN after her, down the corridor. The whole length of it. In front of all my friends. Clearly desperate to have her acknowledge me. Oh dear. My coolness had well and truly left the building.
When I eventually caught up with her. She simply smiled and said hi as she normally would. Puzzled, I asked her why she didn't reply when I called all the other times. The answer was simple enough. She literally hadn't seen me. As she pointed out to me, albeit in I'm sure the nicest way she could, I was so short she had simply looked over me and hadn't seen me at all.
From that point forward, I never shout to get the attention if someone just that bit too far away. Instead, thanks to the wonders of technology, I ring them. Coolness maintained. Well, ish.
xx
At 5 foot 2 and a very important half inch, I am not the world's tallest person.
However, I seem to go through life relatively unscathed by my shortness. Yes, I am forever regarded as 'cute', which doesn't bother me now so much as when I was a pouting teenager and wanted to be 'sexy' (because if course pouting and sulking is really sexy behaviour generally).
I have suffered much mockage for my smallness over the years. But then again, I figure if people don't have something obvious to mock, it's worse, because then they start looking!
Mr Big, being a commendable 6 feet, relishes every mockage opportunity, so my height presents the perfect example. He often uses me as a resting post. Or laughs as I try to reach things (even our kitchen cupboards require me to leap onto the kitchen workshop in order to reach the top shelves). I say 'leap'. That is more like 'heave', post baby, but you catch my drift.
Mr Big did try and show kindness one day. He thought I would find it helpful and 'easier to reach things' if he bought me a set of steps. Yes. Steps. For my kitchen.
Oh dear lord. I think at this point it's fair to say I realised my being 'sexy' had long disappeared.
To top it off, unbeknown to Mr Big, he had actually bought the exact same set of steps my Nan had in her kitchen.
My Nan, on the other hand, thought it was hilarious that we now had matching steps. And very good steps they were too, as they neatly folded away when not in use, as my Nan highlighted!
I did also once have a slightly embarrassing episode at school that was height-related. Aside from the obvious cringe-worthy length of all new school uniforms that you desperately hope you will actually 'grow into' as you set off to 'big school' with all sorts of hopes and dreams, and a uniform so long you can barely walk. Needless to say I never did grow into mine. I just learned I could roll it up. Yep, back to being sexy. Sure that looked really sophisticated.
Anyhow, this particular incident involved a girl a few years older these me who went to the same school and lived opposite me in our street. We were therefore technically 'friends'. By friends, I mean she was older and therefore automatically not only superior but also light years cooler than me in every way. For example, she had boobs, when I was still kidding myself that something might appear on my chest and insisting my Mum bought me crop-tops to house them when they grew. And this girl hung around with boys (I went to an all girls school, so this was no easy feat). Because our parents knew each other though, she was obliged to befriend me and therefore I could take on some of her coolness by default. Or so I thought.
It was all going so well. She would stop and say hi to me in front of my new friends. And she would sometimes catch the same bus in as me so we would chat at the bus stop, or if I was really lucky, even on the bus. And I had an ally in the years above, so was sure to be safe from the bullies. I was über cool. And my new friends were impressed.
That was until I saw her walking down the corridor a few weeks later. By now I was confident of our friendship and felt cock-sure enough of the solidarity of our connection that I called her name out, rather loudly, and frankly for me, boldly, down the corridor so as to say 'hi' and reaffirm my cool status.
Only she didn't see me. She turned, looked around and then continued on her way as if she hadn't seen me at all. Unperturbed I called again. Same response. So finally a third time. Still nothing. This was in danger of becoming embarrassing as my coolness points were dropping faster than a tonne of concrete. So I did what was probably not that cool, looking back. I ran, yes, RAN after her, down the corridor. The whole length of it. In front of all my friends. Clearly desperate to have her acknowledge me. Oh dear. My coolness had well and truly left the building.
When I eventually caught up with her. She simply smiled and said hi as she normally would. Puzzled, I asked her why she didn't reply when I called all the other times. The answer was simple enough. She literally hadn't seen me. As she pointed out to me, albeit in I'm sure the nicest way she could, I was so short she had simply looked over me and hadn't seen me at all.
From that point forward, I never shout to get the attention if someone just that bit too far away. Instead, thanks to the wonders of technology, I ring them. Coolness maintained. Well, ish.
xx
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