Tuesday, September 27, 2005

I have a disability...

I would like to say that it’s taken me a long time to come to terms with it, but it actually hasn’t. In fact, until this past weekend, I didn’t even know about it. Imagine that – something has been affecting me and making my life drastically more difficult for years and years and here I didn’t even notice it. I have to thank Owen for pointing it out to me. It came to light this past weekend in a conversation that went a little something like this:

Owen: Are there any tall people in your family or are they all on the short side?

Me: Well, my grandma was tall.

Owen: Not when I knew her.

Me: Well no, but back in the day she was like 5’10”, which was really tall for women. And Uncle Bill was like 6’4” which was freaking huge.

Owen: Oh…hmm…

Me: Why?

Owen: Well, because I just hope we don’t have short kids is all.

Me: (Incredulous) Why would you say that? What’s wrong with being short?

Owen: Well, I mean, look at you. You can’t ever reach anything. You always need the step stool in the closet…and the kitchen…and the bathroom. It’s like a disability. I feel bad for you.

Me: (Even more incredulous): Are you serious? I manage just fine. It’s not like I can’t do what I need to. It’s not a disability…it’s not like I’m blind or deaf or something. I don’t get a special parking place at the mall or anything.

Owen: Yeah but deaf and blind people have to manage and cope too. Face it. You have a disability.

Me: Yeah but it’s not like I’m medicated for it or anything. It’s not like I have ADD or something (that was me getting my dig in).

Owen: Ha! But you would if you could, wouldn’t you? If there was a pill you could take that would make you 6 feet tall, you’d take it, wouldn’t you?

Me: (Grasping at straws) Well yeah but if there was one that could make me drop 75 pounds I’d take that too, so I don’t really think that counts…

Owen: Face it, you have a disability.

Me: (too busy thinking about how this can work to my advantage parking at the mall this Christmas season…)

2 comments:

Amy said...

I'm almost 6 inches taller than the average american woman - That's half a ruler Owen! Laura is even taller than I am - and David is taller than she is! We're not shrimps! Eric and Katie are pretty tall too... oooohhh - Will's got some height on him. That is six of the 12 cousins... you officially have a 50/50 chance of having a tall kid - and that's from your side alone!

Also - being short is not a disability - when you're tall, all the good conversations go on six to eight inches below your ears. When you're short, people will do the reaching FOR you. When you're tall, you do everybody elses reaching PLUS your own - You get funny looks when you're a tall kid and still of age to be trick-or-treating. When you're short your clothes don't look as though your mom can't run the dryer properly. When your tall you can't fit into coach seating on the airlines very easily and you end up having to pay more to go the same place. If you're a tall girl, people complain when you wear high heels. Plus, you can't use siccors (oh, wait - that's for the lefties)

In conclusion - being tall is sometimes a really big hassle. Being short occassionally requires a step stool.

Spike said...

Yeah, but being short doesn't give you nearly s many opportunities to be an asshole, such as when some moron asks you "What's the weather like up there?" you can spit on their head and say "It's raining."