Around the seventh grade, my doctor had some sobering news for me. Or at least, she thought it was sobering. She was a stout, portly woman who I admired. She kept telling me how smart I was, or complimenting me on the size of my thigh muscles (really, I think she meant it as a compliment.)
So when she came in that afternoon with a worried look on her face, I was all ears.
"I'm so sorry. It appears you have stopped growing." And then she smiled a little, eyes crinkling in sympathy. She patted her own belly as she talked about how difficult it would be for me to keep a slender figure with my stature.
But I wasn't really listening. After all, the little girls were the cute ones! If I were truly going to end up petite, then wouldn't I have a better chance at being a perky cheerleader?
But I couldn't shake my doctor's concern.
Being short is bad.
Being short is disappointing.
Being short means you are less.
Well, I've certainly found obstacles because of my short stature, and I know that my older son is destined to be small like me, so it was with interest that I received a review copy of short: Walking Tall When You're Not Tall At All. According to this book - aimed at young adults but perfectly fun for height-challenged grown-ups like me - my troubles have nothing to do with how tall I (don't) stand.
short is part-humor, part-education. The author John Schwartz is himself a less-than-average-height individual, although since he's a guy he has it much worse than I do. Schwartz argues that the limitations we put on ourselves (pay inequities, dating disasters) are because of lacking self-confidence, not because of the actual shortness.
Well, I understand this in part, but on the other side I can point to plenty of images in the media that keep drilling the point home that to be tall is to be better. I know from a visual standpoint, taller people look slimmer in the same sized clothing, and of course a 150 pound short girl is overweight, while a 150 point tall girl is perfect. Seatbelts cut me the wrong way, and forget the headrests completely! I'm lucky that I can move the seat up enough to touch the pedals, even if I end up looking silly while driving.
But I should quit my moaning, because this sort of whining is exactly why the short-stereotypes exist. Truly, a person is an individual regardless of stature, and it will be his or her characteristics inside that truly matter.
And so, will I give short: Walking Tall When You're Not Tall At All to my son?
Well, probably, but not necessarily. You see, the very act of saying that there might be a reason that he should feel ashamed might trigger the very thing we're trying to avoid. If he's happy and confident about himself, then there is no reason to specifically call out a particular feature. (He's never been called "pig nose" for example, so I'm not going to tell him about the years of horror I experienced with that moniker, even though he and I share the same upturned nose.) On the other hand, if he makes mention that other kids are suddenly growing much taller than he is, (especially when his younger brother surpasses him in probably less than two years) or his classmates tease him, I'll whip out the book and give him an honest talk about it.
But now that I have a book about being short, he's likely to hate something else about himself! (That's okay - I say I inherited the worst of both my parents.)
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Disclaimer: I received a copy of short free-for-review. I am an Amazon affiliate, so should you click through to Amazon to view the book's listing, I will receive a few cents for any purchase you make during that session.
