The Story of a 5′ 1 1/4″ -er and her Cereal


“Daaaaaaaad! Where is the cereal!? Mom? Is anyone awake?”

It’s an average late-start morning before school. I finally have time to eat breakfast…and everything is out of reach and no one is awake to help me. 

 As I stand on my tippy toes, I think I can see the box of the delicious Cinnamon Toast Crunch on the very top shelf of the pantry. (Seriously…why?) I try jumping, and stretching until I can’t stretch any more, but to no avail. Dragging a chair over to stand on seems like a lot of work… and still might not be high enough, so I proceed to The Climbing Strategy. 

 Tentatively, I place a foot on the lowest shelf, checking to see if it would hold my weight. The shelf doesn’t seem to want to give away under me so I go on until I can finally see the top shelf. I awkwardly hold on to the shelf and the wall, praying that I don’t fall and break my neck. At last, I reach the box of cereal! I grab it and jump down…only to discover…it is empty. 

 With a groan of despair and a growling stomach, I decide I have enough time to go to Target to buy my cereal and make it back right before school starts. I hunt through my closet for a pair of jeans, and as usual, can’t find a single one that fits. I walk into the garage with my “short” jeans that are bunched up around my ankles, because apparently, jeans companies don’t know the definition of short. 

 In the car, I start the engine and attempt to reach the gas pedal…and realize that someone else drove the car, so I now have to fix everything. After adjusting the seat, steering wheel and all the mirrors, I half-stand in order to look behind me as I reverse out of my driveway. On the road, the sun is blazing and, well, blinding. Unsuccessfully attempting to block the sun with the visor, I resort to squinting the entire journey. 

 When I finally reach the cereal aisle in the store (somehow alive), I fortunately spot the last box of my cereal! Unfortunately, I find that the box is once again at the top shelf. (At this point, I have officially decided that tall people are quite mean.) 

I decide that it is a bad idea to enact The Climbing Strategy once more, as I don’t exactly feel like testing fate with my shelf climbing skills more than once in the span of one hour, and instead search for a kind stranger, when none other than the tallest person I know comes around the corner.

“Oh hey there! I didn’t see you because you’re so short! I had to look down to see you! Hehe.” 

 — 

Okay that’s enough, I can’t even continue this story. Here’s are the other things I have to deal with…. 

 Short Girl Probs:

“Wow you’re short!” 

 “How tall are you….?” 
 The Top Shelf of Doom. 

 Swimming in the 5 ft area…. 

 People tend to hug your head. 

 People tend to use your head as an arm rest. (Ehem Varsha ehem) 

 Wait for me I have little legs! 

 Maxi skirts…. 

Still the shortest one at the party even with 5 inch heels…. 

 Having to jump to sit on those tall stools. 

 Feet never touch the floor when sitting.

 Adding the “and a half” when people ask for your height. 

Getting caught on door handles. 

Never having a normal picture with friends because you’re a foot shorter than everyone else.

People always take your things and make you reach for them. 

Always having to look up when you talk to people. 

People can’t find you because you’re lost in a sea of tall people. 

Having to rely on strangers on planes to get your things from the overhead compartment. 

You can’t share an umbrella with anyone because of the height difference.

Comebacks: 

I’m not short! I’m fun-size! πŸ˜‰ 

God only lets things grow until they’re perfect… some of us didn’t take as long as others. 

“Aw are you twelve?”
“Yeah, on a scale of one to ten.” 

 I’m not short! I’m compact and ridiculously adorable! πŸ™‚ 

 …Okay, fine. I give up on the comebacks.  

Sigh. 

 F.

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