You know what grinds my gears? Being a short person in a world full of tall people who can’t get over the fact that not everyone is tall. I’m rather petite, five feet to be exact, and if you’ll pardon the pun, I always get the short end of the stick for it.

    There are some people who seem to be concerned that those of us who are “altitudinally challenged” will forget that fact.

    I am personally acquainted with many people who have astonishing powers of observation and loads of creativity who remind me daily that I am in fact, incredibly short. 
    I am eternally grateful to them. Without their help, I would be ignorant of my petiteness. Being confronted with the obvious is not the worst of it. Hallways can be dangerous places for people like me, filled as they are with giants who unknowingly trample and crush us, or fell us with their backpacks.

    Yet, there’s another even more ominous danger that lurks: the stench of teenagers.

When you’re little and armpit level happens to be where your head is, hallways become a disgusting, noxious place. I’ve been considering investing in a gas mask for my protection, but the color choices are so unappealing.

    Instead, I respectfully suggest that some of you reconsider your hygiene habits?

For example, more frequent bathing and use of deodorant would be highly beneficial and appreciated.

    Otherwise, if you see my carcass on the floor of the halls with a horrorstricken face, know that I was felled by the pungent odor of homo sapien tall teenagerus.

Horrible as this is, short people face even more perils, such as being manhandled.

I may be fun-sized, but I’m not a toy. Do not pick me up and twirl me around – I assure you that I will not smile pleasantly and gaze adoringly up at you from painted baby-doll eyes. I will bite. I will kick. I will do my best in my diminutive way to beat with my teeny tiny little fists.

I may be short, but just rest assured that I’m not your “shawty.”