I’m short.
And since I am, people often ask me a large quantity of queer questions, like, “Wait. Are you a legal midget??” I am too often asked this question—and just for any of you who were wondering, NO. I am not a legal midget. According to the “Little People of America.org,” a legal midget in America is a person who reaches an adult height of 4’10”. I JUST measured myself, and I am ALMOST 4’11”. Another common question is “What’s it like to be really short?” and I reply with responses such as, “Being short is like being a tall person’s walking armrest”. Or “Being short is like being a normal-sized person cut off at the chest”. But my favorite question is when I tell people, that I am only 4’10.5”. And they ask, “Wait. Are you kidding?” Why, yes, of course I was kidding. I’ve actually been hiding my other pair of legs in my purse just to trick you.

I’m short.
But you know, being short isn’t as great as you probably think it is. Simple things like saying hi to someone, almost always goes like this, “HI!” And they walk by, turn around, look over my head, and see nothing.

This probably seems obvious—but this eye-level is what is “normal” for me. So now, it’s just normal for me to look straight ahead into someone’s chest or elbow. 4’10” is a pretty awkward height, so I often get elbowed in the face, or people turn around and hit my head with their big-ass-badass-backpacks. And even when I see someone around my eye-level, I immediately think, “Whoa. Why can I see their eyes? Damn. That person is SHORT!”

Another reason why being a 4’10” nineteen year old is awkward, is because at restaurants I can NEVER finish the regular adult-sized meals, but I’m about a decade too old for the child-sized ones.

I’m short.
And walking can definitely be an arduous feat. For every ONE tall-person step, I need to take ATLEAST two Rachel-steps. So, needless to say, it takes me sufficiently longer to get places by foot. And when I DO walk places, I’m always paranoid that since I AM small, some random person will just pick me up, throw me over their shoulder like a sack of potatoes and run away.

I’m short.
I can’t reach anything. When anything is placed on a relatively high shelf, I can never reach it. It actually gets kind of embarrassing, like, “DUDE, Rachel! You can’t ask tall middle school-ers to get things down from shelves for you! You’re nineteen! Not five or eighty! Stop being such a pansy and MAN UP!” You KNOW you’re short when kids with single-digit ages can see over your head.

I’m short.
And when it comes to driving… Not only am I SHORT, but I am an ASIAN. GIRL. Wow, I know, right, based on my credentials, they shouldn’t even let me on the sidewalk. Not only are women stereotypically bad drivers, ASIAN people are notorious for extremely poor driving skills, AND I’m short, so apparently I am doomed. BUT! Don’t worry, contrary to what you may think about my driving skills, I AM a very, very safe and careful driver…. …At least in cars that I can both reach the pedals… AND see over the steering wheel.

But you know, despite all of these negatives, there ARE some positives to being short.

I’m short.
And even though many adult clothes don’t fit me, a lot of kids’ clothes still do!

I’m short.
And since I can often be mistaken for a kid, people always think I am more innocent and wholesome than a normal-sized person. Who stole the cookie from the cookie jar?? NOT RACHEL!! She’s so small and cute! It couldn’t possibly have been her!

I’m short.
But I’m also pretty small. This means that I can fit into small spaces that normal-sized people can’t fit into, like the middle seat in the car, under the desk, in a refrigerator, or in even more obscure places, like in a trash can, or… in the trunk of a car…

I’m short.
And even though I am short, and I can’t reach anything, people elbow me in the head, don’t say hi to me, think I’m a horrible, horrible driver, and I walk slow, it is more about being comfortable and happy with who you are; and being able to recognize that even if you have (almost) a midget-sized body, like me, you can have a big personality, or even more importantly, a giant-sized heart. And you can still steal cookies from the cookie jar.