While other people don’t think twice about where they put things in their cupboards, where they should go to hem every pair of pants they own, or where they put the stepstool, my family does. I can’t count the number of times the words have drummed against my ears, “short” “tiny” “midget”. I used to hate it. My height used to be the biggest thorn in my side imaginable. But, I like it now. It’s like a badge of personality. Being a five foot fireball has its perks. Everyone you hug envelops you like a blanket. People know you’re little, like, really, really little, and they make comments, but you get used to it and the words that were once rocks, now seem more like pebbles, too small to bother you. Being small teaches you lessons no class ever could. You learn to laugh it off. You learn how to walk in heels. You learn that you’re different, and that’s a good thing, no matter how many short jokes you must endure.

My family is short. All of us. But the one that has taught me the most about loving my height is my mom. I love all five foot four of her to death. I am just like her, an enormous personality placed into a tiny body. But being short has never stopped her. Being short has never been a problem to her. Granted my dad is no Jolly Green Giant, but both of them have raised my brother and I to see being short as a good thing. To my mom, her height is a blessing. It lets her literally be closer to her kids, it allows her to be different in a beautiful way, and it lets her go a shorter distance when she falls so she doesn’t get hurt. Being short is a trait, it is a badge, but most of all, being short is a lesson that many people never get the chance to study.