Voices

Lost in the crowd: life of a shawty in a tall, tall world

October 22, 2009


Remember when you were in about fifth grade, having that big growth spurt, and you were suddenly—awkwardly—the tallest person in your class? When your notch on the “How Tall Are We!” chart soared above all your pituitary-challenged classmates? Your pants were too small, your sleeves too short, and your mom gave you that uncomfortable lecture about the miracle of your blossoming young body?

Well, that never happened to me. While all my friends were shooting up like beanstalks, I slowly inched up the yardstick at a snail’s pace. When my eighth grade class put on a performance of the Wizard of Oz, I was the natural choice for a member of the Lollipop Guild. Today, standing at a mere 5-foot-1, I am as tall as my mother and so would appear to have reached my full height.

In our height-obsessed culture, you might see why mine has been somewhat of an issue. It’s hard for me to watch America’s Next Top Model without aching to fit the six-foot tall supermodel standard. I can smile with my eyes with the best of them, but boyfriend jeans make me look like a character on the show Little People Big World. Every time I watch a Cavaliers game, my heart breaks a little bit to know that I will never fly like LeBron.

Recent social statistics reveal that tall people earn approximately 2.5 percent more per inch. Height also helps get presidents elected: 26 out of the last 30 presidential contests went to the taller candidate. According to popular standards, tall is definitely the thing to be. The only person I can think of who is famous for being short is that little jockey who won the Kentucky Derby this year, and who the heck even remembers his name? Then, of course, we have Napoleon, who brings up all kinds of complexes of his own.

It’s easy to get down, ruminating over my deficiencies in the height department, but a few years ago when I hit that five-foot mark, I decided to quit complaining and find the bright side to my little problem. For instance, Japanese women, on average the shortest group of humans, statistically have the longest life expectancy worldwide. Coincidence? Perhaps, but I like to think not. In addition, recent studies have shown that HMGA2, a gene that has been found to cause rapid abnormal height growth, is also linked to the development of many types of cancerous tumors.

Wherever you fall on the height issue, one thing is certain—there’s nothing you can do about how tall you are. Sure, factors like milk consumption and athletic activity have some effect on how tall you are, but the major determiner of height is genetics—an area that, try as we might with braces, hair dye, and rhinoplasty, we cannot completely outsmart.

For those of us who don’t measure up to today’s Herculean norm, standing out in a crowd has to be about more than how much we tower over the masses. A few years ago, in an interview with Steve Nash, the Canadian point guard for the Phoenix Suns, Charlie Rose asked  him how a small white guy made it in a world of much taller players. Nash said it came down to his working harder, eating healthier, and developing a great outside shot and other signature tricks that the big guys couldn’t do, or do as well. Because of his height, he became more disciplined than the competition—transforming his size from a seeming disadvantage to his decided advantage. Genetics may determine how short we are in terms of feet, but being short on personality, skill, or ambition is something that we can consciously avoid.

So why worry about a little thing like height? I still can’t remember the name of that jockey, but in addition to Steve Nash, there’s Ghandi, Mother Teresa, and Danny Devito, all of whom have sub-giant statures. Focusing on all the things you wish you were is depressing and usually pointless. I have learned to appreciate the benefit of my pygmy qualities: I can buy movie tickets at kids’ prices, my feet never hang off the end of my bed, and I can slip by undetected with more than one drink from Leo’s Grab ’N’ Go. After all, being taller than all your classmates is fleeting, but a membership in the Lollypop Guild is forever.



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