Although I'm sure my bitching started at a very early age, I can think back to my years in lower school and remember cursing my height.
I clearly remember wanting to be taller at some point. I remember not being able to reach things in the pantry and coming below the annoying height line at theme parks. My mom always told me (or threatened) that one day my little brother would be taller than me, and perhaps I should stop punching him in the face, because I'd get mine someday. It was a race for me at that young age. Everyone always talked about how tall my parents were, and I was excited grow into what I foresaw as a unique position. My hair was almost blond but not quite, and I had just enough freckles to make it look like my face was kind of dirty, but not enough to be Cutie McFreckles. But if I could be TALL, I was golden.
As is the cruelty of biology, from about 5th grade on, I was one of the tallest people in my class until puberty finally started leveling the playing field. I guess as far as Height Cards are dealt, it was probably much worse, socially, to be The Short Guy. However, this just tended to make the Short Guys overcompensate with their personalities and become the class clowns, consequently ending up as the guys I always had crushes on. Yes, many a picture of my ballroom dancing class shows me in a flowery dress dancing with some jokester who barely comes up to my shoulders.
But while everyone regaled my size, reciting the minimum height for supermodels and foreseeing a promising career in ballet dancing, all I could think of was how cute the short girls in my class were. Some went the tomboy route and became sassy spitfires, always looking a better match with the class clowns than I did, but the others fit so perfectly into the role of a demure cutie-patootie. They were so shy, it was almost as if their shortness weren't enough for them, and they wished for even a few less inches so that they could slink under their desks and disappear. I envied these girls, because I felt I could never fade into a crowd. I was gangly and awkward, and I recall spending the majority of my junior high school days crossing my arms in front of my body because I felt I didn't fit.
At some point, I hit the height I am now, which wikipedia tells me is indeed above average for American women, but far below the average for men. Even with statistics in my favor, the few boys I've dated have ranged from ridiculously shorter than me to equal height.
And I'm still the shortest in my family, which my mom loves to remind me, lording her whole half-inch or whatever it is over me at every family gathering.
Although height was never a factor in choosing to come to Japan, I thought that it was something I was "over," pun slightly intended. I joked about my impending likeness to Godzilla with my friends, and they were honestly jokes. It wasn't a big deal.
And for the most part, it is still funny to me. I stand up at the Opening Ceremony with a row of teachers, and I tower over the next tallest by a few inches. I play in the teacher's volleyball game, and I crouch down comically so that the shorter, more experienced players can save the ball from my inept flailing. If anything, I've gotten used to being the weirdo everyone stares at, and it slightly amuses me. I get to be unique, just like I wanted when I was younger.
But the novelty wears off sometimes. Like when I'm in the shoe section of a department store, and I'm 100% SURE it's the children's section because these tiny things don't look like they could fit DEER hooves. Until I see the children's section off in the corner, and I sadly slink off to the men's section that probably isn't going to have the cute pink stripey number I was looking for.
Or when I just want to shop for groceries and the grandmothers all but drop their dinner squids in shock at the sight of me having inadvertently crept up behind them. When the tiny kid points up at me and shouts "kowai" (scary) and runs off crying, and my Japanese friend tries to assure me that he said "kawaii" (cute), but I somehow think there would be less tears and shaking if, say, Pikachu were to come bounding up to him.
I attended an all-female party for teachers a few months ago, and the differential was even more exaggerated. As we waited outside, I joked with some of the English teachers that I could feel it raining, but they wouldn't feel it for a few more minutes. They all sighed (perhaps at my terrible joke), and confided that they wished they could be as tall as I were. They joked that sometimes they have to get students to reach things off of shelves, and it's very embarrassing. They sometimes feel weak and insecure when they're with men, and they wish they had the sheer surface area that I have to give them peace of mind once in a while.
I dunno. I suppose the tomboy in me still takes pride in being asked to carry heavy stuff with the guys once in a while. I don't really mind always standing in the back row for pictures, since there's less of a chance the photographer will notice the funny face I'm making. I guess it's not so bad.
Still, though, maybe my next trip should be to the Amazon or something, and I can live out my fantasy of being so small, people just want to ball me up and carry me in their pocket.
Posted by Kitsune at March 5, 2008 10:42 PM | digg this
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