Hey, shorty! Pro's and Con's of being a petite person in a tall person's world

I come from a long line of “short” people, and at five feet tall, I rank among one of the taller of my cousins, on my mother’s side. To be totally honest, I can’t say I ever noticed that I was shorter than most people; and on the flip side, when I tell people my height, most seem dubious enough to want to stand back-to-back with me, just to make sure. I always joke that it’s because, despite my short stature, I have a huge personality that makes me appear larger; complete with a vivacious spirit, and moxie, to boot. While that may contribute to people’s misperception of my height, it’s probably more to do with the fact that I have a curvy, athletic shape, not typically attributed to the word “petite.”

The definition of “petite” is: having an attractively small and dainty build. While I don’t know a soul who would use that set of adjectives for me: I am, in fact, petite by sizing standards. I’m about four inches under the average height of women in the USA, and you’d be hard pressed to find a piece of clothing in my closet that doesn’t have a “P” on the label, indicative of shorter lengths (that somehow are still too long on me…).

I’ve never pondered how being smaller than average gives me a different life experience than others, until last week. I was having a conversation with an old friend, in which I joked that I hated emptying the dishwasher so much, I would offer to PAY someone to handle it for me. Why the dishes? Because my cabinets start at my eye level, and moving dishes around is a pain. Since then, I simmered on all the pro’s and con’s of being vertically challenged.

The pro: I fit easily into small spaces. My knees rarely bump the seat in front of me on airplanes, Broadway shows, baseball games; or in one instance, behind the passenger seat of my late husband’s Acura TSX, when we moved into our first apartment, and bought too much stuff at Ikea. This is how he first coined the phrase, “Ikea is Swedish for divorce.”

The con: I often can’t see over the people in front of me at shows, games, or concerts. My mom-in-law jokingly asked if I needed a booster seat when we saw Frozen on Broadway, little did she know,  I actually contemplated it for a minute.

The pro: I will never have to worry about height security with a partner, and will always be able to wear heels with freedom. Also, as a partner, I make whoever I’m with automatically look taller, because I’m so short (people were often shocked that my late husband was only 5’10. Since he was always standing next to me, they assumed he was over six feet).

The con: I don’t match well, height wise, with most potential partners. I usually stand on my toes to hug, and if we hug long enough, my legs will wobble. Now that I think about it, I probably spend more time on my “tippy toes” than most of my peers.

Pro to that con: My calves are usually well toned from all the unintentional calf raises.

The con: Being “petite,” but curvy, makes it exceptionally difficult to find pants/dresses/skirts that fit. When you have wide hips, a tiny waist, and short, thick legs/thighs, it’s a recipe for denim disaster! The brands that do fit well, are usually the pricier ones.  

The pro: Sometimes I can buy children’s sizes (in both shirts and shoes), which saves some cash, and can make up the difference on the expensive jeans.

The con: Carrying my kids is getting harder, because their legs already fall below my knees when I’m holding them.

The pro: I got nothing on this one. It makes me sad.

The con: There are plenty of scenarios I don’t feel especially safe by myself. Crowds, subway stations, parties. Predators tend to assume small people are also weak people.

The pro: I work out to ensure my own safety. And also, I’m “scrappy.” (I’ll bite!). I can also weave through crowds pretty easily, when need be.

The pro: Losing five pounds on my short body can totally alter my appearance.

The con: So can gaining five pounds (eek!).

The pro: Being shorter equals a lower center of gravity, which also means better balance! This is generally why I’m convinced I’d be good at surfing. I haven’t actually tried surfing yet, but theoretically, I fancy myself the next Bethany Hamilton.

The con: Despite my (totally imaginary) amazing surfing skills, doing daily tasks can pose a challenge: I essentially have to climb into my washing machine to change the laundry, I have to balance stacks of dishes over my head to put them away, and retrieve them at meal times, and changing lightbulbs…well, let’s just say it can be interesting.

So, there you have it, my musings on my height, in short order (HA!). I honestly can’t say I feel it’s impacted my life more negatively than positively, despite the few more serious ways it makes me uncomfortable. It’s taken me a long time, but I like myself the way I am: somehow both small, and big. Whatever space I don’t take up for physically, I know I certainly make up for with my gumption, and I’ll take moxie over mass, any day.