Tuesday, 12 July 2011

• This Is The Story of Jennifer & The 7 Million Dwarfs

  
  My travel partner and cousin, Victoria, and I have very different tastes in guys. She loves sporty-looking, non-skinny, non-gay looking, athletic types. I, clearly, love to gawk (I mean, glance) at the opposite.

  I think tall guys are really attractive, but it's not imperative that I date a guy who's 6'5 because I'm only 5'1 (and a quarter). My boyfriend always gets a good laugh when I stretch up to his face on my tippy toes, kiss him, and say, "Yaw tawwwl" in a funny, overly exaggerated New York accent. His response is always the same.  "I'm 5'7 baby; I'm not tall. You're just a midget."

  According to Victoria, I fit right in in Italy.  There were short people everywhere she looked.  I will set the record straight right now. The guys in Italy are not tiny. Yes, they are skinny. And, yes, they usually fall between 5'8 and taller; but, honestly, they were not midget-status as she would lead everyone to believe! The shortest guy I saw was 5'6 and the tallest was 6'3 – just like NYC!

  Victoria, however (who is 5'5), differs in her opinion of what is short.  She pointed out every single one and is convinced to this day that Europe is the land of tiny people. 

  She's not the first somewhat tall girl I've had this argument with, either.  When I commented about my friend Maria's preference for guys 6 feet and over (she was 5'9 in flats), she would say, "It's different for you.  If you wanted to, you could date a guy who was 5'4 and look like a normal-sized couple.  I literally can't do it because I'm too tall for them.  That knocks out a really big part of the population that I'd be willing to date."

  I had similar conversations with Victoria in Europe.

  "Oo, check him out," I'd say, pointing out a possible love connection for her.

  Here's where Victoria chose between her three favorite phrases: "Too short," "He is a legal midget," or "He comes up to my waist."

  I just shook my head, because all of these people towered over me. 

  "Tori..." (which is her nickname, don't worry I didn't mix up any names, fans ;] ) ..."he is not short," I would say to her almost every time.

  "Jen, I could literally put him in my pocket.  I swear, this whole country is like the story of Jennifer & the Seven Million Dwarfs." 

  I laughed for five minutes straight.  I love my cousin.  Being absolutely and utterly hilarious must just run in our family, don't ya think?

  Victoria called me her child the entire trip.  Every time a crazy Vespa driver came zipping along the street, she would take two fingers and throw me out the way with almost no effort at all.  (Guess all the field hockey workouts and yoga classes paid off, Tor.) 

  On several occasions, she turned around and called my name frantically, thinking we had gotten separated in a foreign country.  I was directly behind her every time, but because she is 5'8 in her wedges, she looked directly in front of her and saw clear over my head.  Ah, the life of a short person.

  I used to be really self-conscious about the whole being doll-sized thing, and always wore really high heels.  Now I have a "Screw it" attitude and stay in flats.  Why should my feet suffer because the rest of the world thinks 5'6 is a normal sized height for a girl?  I don't even think 5'1 and a quarter is that short.  I have been told, however, that when you have to say "and a quarter," you are, in fact, short.  Kind of makes sense.  After all, you never really hear a guy who is 6'4 say he's 6'4 and seven eighths. 

  Ironically, I have dated two different guys who were 6'4.  With one, I used to constantly choose date spots where we could sit down because my neck used to hurt just having a conversation with the guy.  I would make the other walk in the street and I'd stay on the sidewalk to get the extra three inches.  Both relationships failed.  One of those guys was the one who said I wasn't pretty.  Hmm, looking back, maybe he said it 'cause I used to make him walk in the street, haha.

  Two years ago, when I worked as a waitress at a TGI Fridays, my managers used to abuse me for my height and weight all the time.  They would draw smiley faces on brooms, straws, and just about any other tiny, thin, short instrument they could find. 

  One day, when struggling to reach for something high up on a kitchen shelf, two of the managers and a coworker of mine all got down on their knees and starting singing the song Lullaby League/Lollipop Guild from The Wizard of Oz – "We represent the Lollipop Guild, the Lollipop Guild, the Lollipop Guild..." I was not amused.  Especially since the family at the table I was waiting on was sitting there waiting for the condiment that no one would reach for me.

  Growing up in a house with two older brothers who have always towered over me, not to mention watching every single one of my younger cousins grow taller than me, and now having a dog that is my height when he stands up and hugs me, I'm used to all the teasing.  At this point, it doesn't even phase me anymore. 

  I like to fall back on what my dad has always said to me – "Good things come in small packages."  I once told a woman at work that my dad always uses that phrase to describe me.  Her response?  "Yeah, so does poison."  I just stood there in shock with my jaw dropped.  What is wrong with people?

  Anyway, my point is this: Short guys, I feel for you. Stay strong, brothers – even if Victoria won't date you.

  Have you ever dated a short guy/girl? What is the shortest person you'd be willing to date? Does your taste depend on your own height?

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