Thursday, May 10, 2012

Altitude Deficiency and the Consequences Thereof.

        Fun sized. Vertically challenged. Munchkin. Pipsqueak. Half Pint. Lilliputian. These are just a few of the many names I have been called due to my lack of height. My new favorite, thanks to Weast who used it when my shortness became an issue with blocking, is "altitude deficient" (hence the title).
        Now, I'm 5'2'' (almost) but at times people act like I'm a midget, when in reality I could be a very tall Guatemalan or ancient Egyptian.  Being short is something I have learned to embrace over the years, so here is a rather condensed account of the trials and triumphs of a "altitude deficient" person.
        To begin with, being short does have its positive side. For instance, unless I fall in love with a manorexic horse jockey (which is highly unlikely. Horse stench is highly unattractive) I most likely won't have to worry about being taller than my date. Also, at prom, I could wear six inch heels and still be slightly shorter than my date of an average height.
        However, it seems almost inevitable that the very thing I need at the grocery store is on the top shelf. I realize that the most obvious solution to this problem is to track down a tall person and use my womanly charm to persuade them to assist. However, asking for help is the one thing I hate more than Kristen Steward and her cross-eyed-humming-bird-blinking kissing scenes and I'm not much of the damsel in distress type. So instead, I use my mad rock climbing skills (wilderness camp has proved useful in many ways) to climb up the shelves. This is one of my main motivations to not gain weight: the fear of shelves full of merchandise falling on top of me in a public place.
        Also, there is the problem of buying suitable clothing. It's obvious that pants would be hard to buy, but you must remember that as a general role, short legs also mean short arms. So pretty much, all clothing is designed to make short people look like hobos with saggy sleeves and pant legs. Thank goodness rolling one's jeans has come back in to style. Unfortunately, rolling dress pants is never attractive or socially acceptable, meaning that I have to wear heels to work for nine hours every day. And don't get me wrong, I love a fabulous pair of shoes, but not on my feet for nine hours. To be quite honest, I take them off at my desk until I hear someone coming. The lady who gave the "Professional Attire and Etiquette Course" would crap her not-too-flashy-and-ironed-to-a-crisp slacks if she knew.
          Being a curvy short girl presents a whole new clothing dilemma. I always end up having to venture in the black girl clothing stores to find jeans, you know the ones I'm talking about...dimly lit, slightly shady, playing hip-hop music so loud your IQ drops a whole point and you start compulsively rhyming.  I walk through timidly, heading directly for the jeans (built specifically for short girls with child-bearing hips) meanwhile trying to ignore the fact that I'm being eyed by the hordes of not-so-shy black girls muttering "Giiiiiiirl, whachyoo doin in heee?" I'm always tempted to answer with something like "yo homie skillet biscuit," however I would be brutally out-numbered in a fight and I feel as though they would not take kindly to a battle of the wit (ah the loss of cleverness in the world). Once I finally have my jeans of choice in hand (usually named something like "jucy playa'") I make my way to the checkout counter where I avoid making eye contact with the sales person who has fingernails longer than my face and a bump-it that scrapes the ceiling and asking me questions I can't understand like "Fitty tirty-two is yo total. You sure you don't want no ice wit dat?"   So yes. I do have a ghetto booty (in the least racial slurrish way possible)
         In addition to clothing predicaments, being altitude deficient has been all but detrimental to my future acting career. I have always wanted to play the bad guy, the devious witch, the evil queen, the sinister step-mother, but unfortunately, no matter how good you are at imitating the very essence of the ultimate antagonist, if your short, you always end up looking like an angry oompa-loompa. So I will forever be playing the child and/or munchkin like characters.
       Although it has not always been opportune, I wouldn't trade my altitude deficiency for anything, I embrace every quirk that makes my life more interesting.
       And yes. A "Ghetto Slang Dictionary" was used in the composure of this blog.)

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