I’m one!

I hit my present full five feet in Jr. High and have spent a lifetime of saying- Behind YOU - when another person starts to run over me like a blind spot in a Mustang. It isn’t as if I’m in camouflage, I wear bright colors, and sometimes heels, so why am I “unseen”?

Last year, after yet another cutlery drawer got caught on my pants pocket and followed behind me, I decided to ask other Women I could see eye to eye to, a question. Do you have daily annoyances, because you are short?  Conversations struck up at gas pumps, the cereal isle at Wal-Mart or the casino bar, makes it clear that I’m not the only shortie struggling with a world built for anyone six inches taller than me.

We spend much of our days on tip toes, stretching to reach the 2nd shelf of the pantry, struggling for that last shirt in the washing machine, or having to jump to flip open the dumpster cover. Our cubby numbers, have calves of steel and tight bums, from straining up steps made for longer limbs, and hurdling up into high profile SUVs.

We dream of adding a sub-floor to our kitchens, so we can wash dishes and not be drenched from belly button to boobage. We bitch when we have to climb up onto a bar stools and we wish we didn’t have to boost up, to hop down off of them. We search for the perfect seat belt adjustor, so we can drive without our necks being rubbed raw, and thrown out a half dozen that didn’t work. Chairs, desks, bookcases and a multitude of everyday items have to be worked-around, just to get along.

Not quite short enough to be classified a “little person” there aren’t products designed for folks4’11” to 5’5” – and the prevailing suggestion of  “get a step stool”, brings up laughable mental pictures of dragging it around, like a ball and chain. The day I find a keyboard small enough for my hands that isn’t pink with Barbi plastered all over it, I’ll buy a dozen.

So my friends, the next time you are standing in line at the movies, check behind you before you back up.  The toes you save, may be mine.