When I was in elementary school, I was taller than everyone. I was a nubian goddess walking through the fields of prosperity, and then everyone hit their growth spurts. I hit my growth spurt in third grade, which resulted in waiting another 4-5 years for the next one and by that time it was too late. I was shorter than everyone I knew.  

 I stopped growing in 8th grade, and I would be 5’3 for the rest of my life. Being this height was trivial, because I wasn’t small enough to be an elf in the Christmas shows, and I wasn’t tall enough to be a tree. I was the deer.

Bambi’s mom.

 Then I understood why short people are mean. Our lives are the hardest thing imaginable. Our lives are the gym courses in hell.

 If I got a dollar every time I got hit in the face by someone putting on their backpack, I would be rich. If I had a dollar for every time I missed my stop on the train because I was facing someone’s back, I would be rich. If I had a dollar every time I felt powerful, I’d still be poor.

I hate being Short.

 Honestly, I don’t know why I’m still fat (don’t even let me get into weight). Getting out of trains bruise-free is an every day aerobic exercise. Dodging backpacks is a deleted scene from the recent Survivor episode.

I hate being sHort.

 Out of the 30-40 shoes I have in rotation for winter, 23 of which have humongous heels. All of my shoes give me some kind of height, from a half an inch to five, and I haven’t even gotten into the struggle of weight gain.

I hate being shOrt.

 I work out everyday, getting on and off train, and I am still fat but, that isn’t even the bulk of the problem. When you’re short, your fats sits there. In plain sight. If you eat a doughnut, it’s going to your thighs and you better jog back home. Drink a soda? Better run back home.

I hate being shoRt.

 Just to give a little more context about myself, I’m 5’3 with a high pitched voice. Are we noticing a trend? When I say it is impossible to take me serious, trust that I say things 4-8 times before people acknowledge that I’m actually mad.

I hate being shorT.

I hate being Bambi’s mom.

I hate dodging backpacks.

I hate trains.

I hate being fat.

I hate my voice.

I’m not a kid … I swear.