Short

For a library summer reading challenge, I'm filling out a bingo sheet that includes, "Write a short tale." I'm going for blackout. Yeah, I know, they probably meant to write a short story, but I thought I'd take them a little more literally. This is my "short tale."  

The name "Deb" suits me because it's short, like I am. I've been five-feet-two-inches since I was twelve. I was sure I'd eventually grow up and be taller, but that never happened.

As the second oldest of nine children, I was tall for a long time. Almost all (maybe all?) of my siblings eventually surpassed me in height. The only reason I'm not the shortest in my family with my five adult children is because my sweet, twenty-seven-year-old daughter who has Down syndrome is only four feet, ten inches or so. She's a gift.

When my older sister and I were in high school, a friend of hers asked, referring to me, "What's your sister's name?"

"It's Debi," she answered. (I haven't been Debi since high school; but that's another story.)

He heard my sister say that as one blended word.

"Stubby?" he asked her. She thought that was pretty hilarious.

I probably laughed too when she told me, except it wasn't really funny because I felt a bit stubby. I have small hands and feet. They're not at all stubby (well, maybe my toes are) but still, as an insecure teenager, descriptions and self-perceptions mattered. 

When I asked my husband if he could think of any stories about me being short so I could write about one he said, "Only that song you sing, 'I'm short, fat, proud of that.'"

The rest of the Winnie-the-Pooh song popped right into my mind, "Speaking poundage-wise. I improve my appetite, when I exercise.'"

"No! I don't sing that anymore," I said to him.

Thankfully, I don't feel fat now. Besides, I have learned to not objectify myself. I'm a hundred times less self-conscious and body-obsessed than I was when I was younger. Now, I'm grateful for my body as a tool and facilitator of my life. I'm glad for who I am and for what my body lets me experience. I'm definitely More Than a Body, which is the title of a book by the Doctors Kite that I just started reading yesterday. It's good so far.

My husband also said, "Short implies a comparison." He pointed out that I'm taller than a lot of things. Compared to whom am I short? By what standard? It turns out an average adult woman in the United States is five foot, four inches. So, I guess by that standard, I'm short.

I used to feel inadequate because I'm short until I was about nineteen. At that time, a male friend of mine (who happened to be seven feet, two inches tall) told me not to worry about being short. He said, "Some guys like short girls." His simple reassurance changed my self-perception. Suddenly, it was okay to be a short woman in the world. I believed someone, someday would find me attractive.

I always felt my insides were taller than my body. I used to think when I grew up I'd be tall and slender, the way the media portrayed women. When I pictured my future self, not only was I tall, but I was also wearing an emerald-green ball gown, standing on a hillside overlooking the sea, with wind blowing through my thick, blond hair. When I reached that ideal, I knew I'd feel grown up, like a real woman. That "perfect" image didn't happen, but I'm okay with that.

In reality, I didn't feel like a grown-up woman until after my second child was born. I was twenty-four. Before then, as a newlywed and mom of one, I felt like I was playing house. Something about being a mom of two children changed everything. We were living in England at the time, so sometimes I'd say, "I grew up in England." 

There, finally feeling like a grown-up woman, my husband and I took our girls on a camping trip around England. I remember one evening, I stood outside our tent on a green hill on the western coast of England. The wind blew through my long, light-brown hair. I looked out over the sea toward Wales. I was still short, but it was truly a beautiful moment. Our tent blew down in the middle of the night; but that's another story.

I'm still short, but so far, I feel like my body has let me experience all the things I've wanted to do. I'd call that living pretty large.