For a girl, I guess I’m pretty tall. That statement is fairly relative, since when I’m back home, I’m not that much taller than most girls. In my immediate family, I’m damn short. In pictures, my brother and cousins tower over me. However, in Toronto, which is filled with Asians and Italians, Jews and Indians, I am tall. They are short and I do indeed tower over them.
I’m taller than the boyfriend. Which was weird at first, but now it isn’t even an issue. Sure, I like tall guys, but I like personalities more, and his happens to come in a short body. He made out pretty well considering his mom is 5 foot nothing and his dad might be 5’6 and a bit on a good day.
My friends have always been shorter than me, but never really short. Like, most of them I guess would have been over 5’4. I was always the kid in the back row on school picture day. Ah, school pictures, good times. I was always the centre back in my ballet classes. I’m always the one who has to reach stuff for people. I scoff at the requirement of ladders. On the subway, I can reach the top ceiling bar and stabilize myself instead of falling all over hell’s acre and smashing into some stinky ass monkey. If I put on 5 pounds, it isn’t as noticeable as it would be if I was short.
How tall am I? I’m 5’10. Which isn’t outrageous. But I always freak myself out when I”m walking down the sidewalk and see some giant girl walking towards me. I’m all, ‘whoah, she’s a freak dude, no guy wants a girl that tall’ and then when I pass her, I realize she’s about 1/4 inch taller than I am. Super.
I used to refuse to buy heels. No way was I going to be 6 foot tall, thank you very much. Now I don’t care. Fuck it, bring on the heels. I’m taller than you bitch, deal with it. There’s something inherently powerful about being taller than someone. Reversed, it’s inherently intimidating and nerve-wracking to have someone stand over you. At least, in my mind it is.
So where am I going with all of this?
Well, I’m laying the groundwork for my shocking statement. The statement in question?
I don’t like short people.
I know I have no idea how tall any of my readers are. With my luck, half of you are 5’1 and the rest of you are legal dwarts/midgets/small people/whatever the political term is for them today. But I don’t care. You can hate on tall people if you like. With our smugness and ability to reach shit. But in general, short people get on my fucking nerves.
When I’m walking down the sidewalk, their short stride makes them slow. This pisses me off. Get out of my way. When I’m on the subway and they bump into me, their heads literally hit me in the boobs. This is inappropriate and annoying. They just seem to meander and weave more than the average heighted person (is heighted a word? probably not). They’re just….down there doing their thing. And I look at them and just want to push them.
It’s like children. They’re short and can’t notice everything, so they’re unpredictable because they’re caught off guard by upcoming obstacles in their pathway. I expect this from kids. But adults? I know it isn’t their fault that they live in a world where they can’t see over anyone’s head, but I don’t care. Move! Go! I think it must be scary to look around and not be able to see the sky, for all the tall people blocking out the sun, but this doesn’t give you a reason to wander around like perma-tourists on the sidewalks.
Short people seem to gawk more. They seem to be in awe more often than their taller counterparts. I don’t know why this is, but it bugs me. And their pants are always rolled up, cuz they’re too long. Go to a tailor! And when I”m behind them in line at a convenience store and they’re trying to lean over the counter to see the selection of cigarettes, I want to scream, ‘Look! Look at what those smokes did to you! They made you so short that you can’t even see them! Ironic, eh shorty?! Hurry up!’ Or maybe that’s coffee that stunts your growth. I don’t know, smokes still suck. If you’re not tall enough to see them, you shouldn’t be able to buy them.
I know this is bad of me. But sometimes if there’s a conglomeration of short people, I just want to smash my way through. They just huddle around and speak in their higher-pitched voices, oblivious to what’s happening in the upper stratum of the population.
It’s like this: I’m expected to watch out for them while doing my thing. I can’t walk into them or smash my way through their gatherings. I’m expected to look down as well as looking at my own level. But for some reason, they don’t look up while going along. They smash into you. They do. Maybe it’s only the Torontonian shorties who do this, I don’t know.
I realize I might get reamed out in the comments section by those who are vertically challenged. I dont’ care. I could beat you up. Haha, I’m kidding (well, I mean, I COULD, but I won’t). I’m sure tall people are annoying too. You’re always having to look at our armpits and such. We walk too fast with our long gaits and you have to jog to keep up. I know. It goes both ways.
But for now, just please put on a pair of heels so you can see where the fuck you’re going. And maybe one of those little flags on the grocery carts that kids push around, so I can see you coming.