A Short Piece

I am short. That's right, in a world where men average out at 5'11 ( about 1.8m)and women are about 5'5 (some at 5'8), I am very short. I am 5ft (1.5m). But you know what? It never used to bother me. When you are young, short people are cute. I've been told "short people run faster", "short people always look young" (this one from my 47 year old mother) even "short women have tighter vaginas". I suppose this was all to make it seem like being short is okay. But being short isn't okay anymore.

Now, I don't judge myself by other peoples standards; I don't want to be model thin and tall. But I'm getting really fucking tired of being called a midget. Midgets are people who are under the size of 4'8 (1.4m). I am not a midget. I will say it again, I am NOT a midget. Don't call me that. Midgets are usually, if I understand it correctly, the product of a genetic defect/mutation. Midget is an offensive term for dwarfs/little people. For many narrow-minded people, a midget is often synonymous with a retard (another offensive and narrow-minded term which often means, in its pejorative form, not only someone who suffers from mental retardation but who is also ugly, stupid, and creepy). Now, I don't subscribe to these views, but I won't deny that it is insulting to be described with a word that many people see as negative. I do not have a growth problem, I do not have a genetic problem. there is nothing wrong with me physically except that I'm short. Stop fucking calling me a midget. Stop calling me a dwarf. Or a troll, or a child. I'm perfectly normal. Catherine the Great was 5' (many at this point will remark that Napoleon was also short. He wasn't, in fact, he measured 5'7". that's French feet by the way, which I believe are bigger than English feet. He was average for the time, perhaps even a little tall. But, I digress).

When did being tall become such a valued characteristic? What can you do that I can't? I don't even want to be tall. If I can't reach something, I'll use a step ladder. But I'll never bump my head or have to duck uncomfortably. Shirts will always fit me because I don't have monstrously long arms. Pants never will of course, because the clothing industry must follow the norm. What I don't get about pants though, is why the larger sizes for women's pants have longer legs. Everyone knows that the pudgier you are, the shorter you probably are (this is not the case for men). And really, wouldn't it be more logical for industries to cater to short people? No matter how tall you are, you can always bend down to reach something. But I can't reach that 7 foot high shelf in the stockroom.

I used to not mind being short. You get to be first in line in school, and you can trick or treat for a couple of extra years before people catch on (although admittedly I stopped trick or treating at 13). I am very proportional and I rather like my bod. In fact, I have no problem with my height. It's everyone else who has the problem.

Parents are the Biggest Fucking Morons on the Planet

As you may have noticed from the title, I think parents are the biggest fucking morons on the planet. both of them, though I'll admit my father seems much more reasonable to me. I feel kind of bad posting this stuff on the internet but damnit I have to tell someone.

My mother, though she won't admit it, is going through menopause. EVERYTHING is a fucking attack on my mother. Don't contradict her, don't give her a negative comment or opinion, heck, don't even talk about something she disagrees with. Your view is not her view, so if you disagree with her you must hate her fucking guts. That's her logic. She lets every little thing bother her. an example you ask? here you go: We redid the living room, and by redid, I mean painted and rearranged the furniture. I'm not sure what was going on in her mind, but she seemed to think that changing the paint would make the furniture she hated look better. So when that wasn't the outcome, she had a fucking tantrum. She wished we hadn't done anything, it had taken too long, she hated the furniture and everyone who was telling her they liked it and that it looked fine was obviously out to get her and just didn't understand. I can't even explain the depths of her insanity. I'd be here for weeks. She's just so irrational. I don't know how logic works in her mind, but it doesn't work that way in any other universe.

Then there is my dad. As I said, I often find him more reasonable, but every once in a while he throws me for a loop. If you live in the same house as my dad, do everything the way he wants you to do it. It doesn't matter if your way works equally well, it's the wrong way if it's not his way. Oh, and his rules don't have to apply to him. Don't leave your dishes on the coffee table, in fact, you should bring them into the kitchen immediately after you finish with them, because waiting until a commercial will I don't know cause them to grow mold or explode or something. But don't worry about his tray, it'll sit there until he's good and ready to take it away. Unless you get up before him in which case, you should take it up. I mean come on, you're already up aren't you?

My favourite part of this small personal hell however, is when they argue. I'm the kinda of person who hates confrontation. Arguing and yelling makes me really sick in my stomach, often with unfortunate results. So you can imagine what it's like to live in a house where the above two are arguing. One thinks everything you say is an attack, the other thinks everything he does is perfect. My mother watches doctor Phil all the time, she loves him. Dr. Phil often asks couples "do you want to be right or do you want to be happy?" My mother, having learned absolutely nothing from years of tv, wants to be right. And the best part? As you noticed above, I know exactly what is each of their problems and how to solve them. Mom, be reasonable and listen to what people have to say without going batshit fucking insane on them. Dad, swearing is not an argument. try to see it from someone else's side. But my parents believe that children (even in their 20s) cannot possibly have valuable input when it comes to "grown-up talk" so I can't ever tell them any of this. They're both stubborn and unreasonable and I honestly am starting to think they only married each other for their looks because they seem to have nothing in common.

And the very worst part? I can't talk to my mother. I'm a daughter who can't talk to her mother. You know how in the movies the mother and daughter have a blow out argument, but in the end all is well because they see each others opinions and understand each other? Those endings make me sad because that will never happen to me. I can't tell my mother how I feel because it will offend her. And I really hate that. So I don't tell her ANY thing I think lest my views hurt her. And I spend part of every day in the bathroom in pain because of their arguing.

I understand James Dean now in Rebel Without a Cause and I echo his famous line: You're tearing me apart.