a short post…

As someone who is barely five feet tall, I feel comfortable classifying myself as short. I also feel comfortable classifying anyone over five feet and four inches as tall. For the rest of this post, categorize yourself accordingly.

My entire life tall people have walked into me, sat on top of me, and tripped over me. I’ve been mocked on basketball courts, laughed at for my tininess, and picked up and moved just because why not. As such I’ve grown to automatically distrust tall people until they’ve proven themselves to be great instead of all of that.

Now, as a girl pushing thirty who often gets mistaken for a junior higher by strangers because I literally fit right in, I quietly and passive aggressively exact my revenge on the vertically unchallenged.

On airplanes I stretch out in the vast amount of space I find myself blessed with and comment on how much legroom there is.

At night I sleep curled up in the corner of my king size bed.

I softly giggle to myself when I go for walks and don’t have to duck under the low hanging tree branches hanging over the paths.

Not exactly a world changing coup, but every single one of those things is a take that to the tall folk who have made (ill-conceived) Napoleon jokes in my direction, used their height as leverage to force me into situations I didn’t appreciate, or redirected me from my fifth grade hallway to the kindergarten wing in spite of my protests (some wounds just never heal).

Here’s the thing:

It’s good to be pocket sized. It’s good to have all of this space. Because seriously, you guys, I always have a ton of extra space.

(If you know me at all, you know that pun in the title? Yeah, totally intended.)


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