The Problems of Being Short and Looking Young

“Do you need help sweetie?” “How old are you?” “Where’s your parents?”

I get these questions all the time, as if I’m a sixteen-year-old held captive by my child-self.  My toothpick arms make a rock climb for every toilet paper rack at supermarkets with adults swarming to help me. No free samples at Costco without my mother by my side in case I’m “lying” about my own allergies, or being shoved in the middle seat, squished like I’m an overused stress ball.

We short people live through the eyes of a five-year-old constantly looking up: either up people’s hairy nostrils, their moving jawline, or simply getting squished into our friends’ boobs. Our purpose is to be objectified as an armrest for those who are too lazy to balance on their own perfectly slim legs, stuffing up our noses with the noxious, stale stench of flies flying out their armpits. The lagging school days of lunging up the stairs leaves my legs crying in agony, and a thirty-minute walk turns to a thirty-minute power walk to keep up with my slender man legged friends.

To add on to these atrocities, I can’t even get a proper meal. Due to my baby face and minuscule hunched armadillo body, I’m instantly handed a kid’s menu. A KID’S MENU! Do I look like I’m 12? Despite my attempts of ordering from my mom’s menu, with direct eye contact and an obvious finger indication on the menu to the waiter, she brings me a fudging miniature sized burger. I did not live another four years for the same calories as my nine-year-old brother, thank you very much.

There’s also the daily struggle of having our view blocked by towering bodies and being shoved around like we’re in pinball. A day at the movie theater becomes dodge ball from the blocking of tall heads, large crowds becomes a stampede of rowdy sweaty bulls trampling on our ant bodies and standing in lineups turns us into waddling penguins.

Although it’s infuriating to be short and to look young, there are some advantages. For instance, I can get away with taxes, I have plenty of leg room on planes, and I get away from heavy duty work.

I am also skilled at hide and seek and getting piggyback rides.

But the unwanted tattoo I cannot remove is the term “cute”; it’s stitched in my skin. No “Hot” or “Beautiful” is ever puzzled together with my face. And no, I do not want to be referred to those, but the fact that I’m told “You’re so cute!” as my permanent so-called-compliment makes me want to gag.  I am not a baby, or a puppy, ok? And please don’t tell me to wear heels to solve my height issues; those unbearable human-made torture devices are unacceptable for my virgin feet.

Now being small does not always hide me.  Whenever it’s picture time, my spotlight shines, front and center, provoking my shy stomach. My teenage clothing sags like filled up trash bags and I must strain my husky words to be heard. Worst of all, 5^th graders heights are either equivalent or greater than mine making me petrified of hyper children.

So before you treat me like a child, let me make things clear.  Yes, I am sixteen, yes, I am short, and yes, I do struggle. But hey, at least I get to save money by wearing kid’s clothing.

1. Two things I did well

I was able to use lots of metaphors, imagery, and some similes throughout my writing, and I was able to present it quite well. I usually don’t do a rant because I find them quite difficult; however, I am proud I was able to take my experiences and make it into a piece of writing to share it with my short folks.

2. Two things I need to improve on

I need to improve on my speaking when I present, and be more insightful when I am writing. I found myself running out of breath a lot while I was presenting so I need to find a way to make sure I do enough pauses. I did talk faster when I was in front of the class as I was really nervous, so I need to find coping methods to help me calm down before I present. I also need to start going deeper into my writing and just improving my writing in general.

3. Obstacles I encountered and the solution

While I was writing this spoken word, I tried to think of different ways of explaining my emotions or how I see things using metaphors or other descriptive words but I found this quite hard. Luckily, I managed to think of some by writing down my ideas first then thinking of ways to express/ show them without simply telling them. I also am not good at rants and I was hesitant to do this but this feeling of being short and young really got to me so I decided to go for it. I did in the beginning struggle on how to rant as I do not know how to; however, I managed to by imagining myself ranting to those that treat me like a child. I am proud that I decided to do a rant this time and that I was able to do a decent job. I am also proud I was able to make some people laugh as I am not very funny.