small things

I’m petite, little, short, small, tiny, but never vertically challenged. I’m the height of an average 12 year old girl. If I was 1 less inch you could call me a midget. Genetically I should really have been Vietnamese, Peruvian, Pilipino or Mayan. I’m not; i’m white, of mongrel race (mostly Irish).

It’s not something that I can hide unless I buy all my shoes with 5 inch heals (Unpractical unless you are Victoria Beckham). I’ve spent my life wondering how all the organs I have fit into my tiny body and whether they are fully formed; will I stay a child for my whole life because I am the size of one?

I permanently carry my passport around with me because I can’t buy cigarettes or a bottle of wine without it. I can’t go to a bar or a club and even an 18 film can be wobbly. I don’t look 12, but people can’t see past the fact I don’t come up to their elbow. Tailors are my friend. Kid’s shoes are not sexy. Obviously.

People’s manners are what I notice the most. I’m below their nose, they just don’t see me. People don’t look down unless they are looking down on something. At gigs, at events, it’s more “why are you here?” not “sorry you can’t see”. Elbows are the worst.

People treat me like my life needs a metaphorical pat on the head. That they are surprised to see me doing the things I do. At school I did woodwork for my A-levels and built the biggest project that year – to me size wasn’t an issue. 6 years after university people still think I have just left. I have achieved my aspirations, people just don’t believe me.

Being small has defined my life, of course I hate it, I hate the way i’m made to feel. In the adult world, looking 12 means you are 12. In my experience, size really does matter.

But once in a while, people have to re-adjust their sets. They get surprised.

I like being a curveball.

Kx

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