5 Reasons It's Great To Be Short
I will find a space, and I will fit into it!
Like I wrote before, I’m short. Don’t worry-- I haven’t grown since then. I’m still searching for an old witch to make me a few inches taller and a few millions richer, but I haven’t found her yet. So I’m currently stuck asking children to reach things for me. But I didn’t want you to think that being short is 100% terrible, all of the time. I don’t want you to think things like “oh, that girl can’t go on most amusement park rides, she must be so sad.” I’m not! I hate rollercoasters. I have lots of non-rollercoaster fun, so you guys can have your sick little wooden death-drops. And If you’re wondering what’s so great about being a short little baby, I list it below:
1. Nobody Asks Me To Lift Anything
I’m not the girl you’re going to ask to help you move. I would be completely useless. I can lift your clothing boxes and MAYBE your book boxes, but if you give me a large lamp or dresser, I will fall down six flights of steps. I can’t do it. I can’t see over the couch you’re asking me to transport down your whirly staircase. I add no value to this situation, and it’s incredible. Why would I ever want to do that in the first place? I have no interest in helping you move your things to your new home. Hire movers. There are easier solutions then your ragtag group of small, lazy friends. People are like “I’ll reward you with food and beer!” and uh….okay…thanks for nothing, I can do that by going to the store, and I won’t have a sore back for six years.
2. I Can Still Order The Happy Meal
When I was in high school, waiters would always ask my parents if I needed a children’s menu, and I would get super mad (not at the servers! I’m not a jerk!) and sit in silence in The Olive Garden or whatever. But cherish that ish. While I don’t specifically ask for the children’s menu anymore, the children’s menu is the best food at diners and cheap restaurants. $4.95 for a grilled cheese sandwich and french fries? Good luck getting that as an adult; it’s like $12.00 for the same food. But there is one place I can still order the cheapest thing on the menu, and it’s called The Happy Meal. Four chicken nuggets, all the sauce you want, french fries, a soda, and a toy? Who said looking like a tiny widdle toddler who walked into the fast food joint before catching the 4pm matinee of Minions was all that bad? You creepy tall freaks look bonkers ordering a meal for a child when there’s no child in sight. Where’s the child, Becca?! I look right at home getting my food and sitting in the booth, screaming over a free My Little Pony. I make due. And yes, I sometimes ask for crayons at the diner.
3. I'm A Manspreader's Worst Nightmare
Ah, the manspreader: a dude on the subway or bus who sits with his legs so far apart, he takes up two seats. I hate you! What, do you need to air out of your crotch? Did you pee on yourself? Why so wide? But it’s no match for me. My superhero power is squeezing into spaces I’m not wanted, just like many dudes on Twitter! I can easily look a manspreader in the eye who thinks he’s not getting moved and sit down, a little uncomfortably, shimmying myself until he moves his legs. I can stand in the corner of the subway on rush hour. I can move past groups of people taking up the sidewalk. I will find a space, and I will fit into it!
4. I Will Never Have To Have My Sh*t Together
I will always look 16. That means all of my accomplishments up till now seem incredible. I have a job. I graduated college. I’ve had things published. All before I even became legal, at least to the eyes of people I meet at parties who think I still am looking forward to prom. Sure, there are plenty of life skills I am awful at, like flipping a fried egg or remembering to pay my gas bill on time, but that comes with age. I have my whole life to learn that stuff!
5. I Can Trick People Into Thinking I'm Cute
Oh, make no mistake---I am not cute. I’m small, sure, but so are the dogs with the most yappy bites. I can fit into children’s clothes, ya know? I must be so sweet and nice! I bet I won’t say anything if I get cut off on a bathroom line-- then WHAM! I start screeching like the other-worldy thing that gets ripped out of the stomach in the movie Alien. You don’t want to mess with me, but you think you do, because I look so tiny and nice. You’re slightly in luck, though--I’m very, very easy to hold back.