Standing (not so) tall

Do you ever notice how people are so inclined to pat the belly of a very pregnant woman? Even if they don't know her personally! The belly is like a magnet and some people are drawn to it like bees to honey and they get some kind of comfort or satisfaction in patting the unborn baby.

Personally, I never took offense whenever somebody patted my belly any one of the four times I was pregnant at one time or another. In some ways I found it comforting that they would even do so because they meant nothing but good things for me and whomever I was carrying and obviously didn't see me as an uptight individual who would take offense to the bold move without even asking first.

I like to think I have a sense of humor and can take a joke or two and obviously can dish it out and throw it right back. And throughout my lifetime, I have been the brunt of many jokes related, but not always limited to, my height. Or lack, thereof. Unfortunately, I drew the short stick in the draw and despite my intentions and prayers and negotiations with God, never reached more than 5'. In fact, I am officially 4'10-3/4", but I like to round that up to 4'11" because why wouldn't I take advantage of the 1/8" the soles of my shoes would offer?

Back in my teens and 20s and even 30s, I always managed to see the silver lining in the jokes anybody made at my expense. Good things come in small packages. I'm a twin, and my twin stole more of the food in utero. I didn't have a problem gaining access to tight and narrow spaces. Because I was short petite. Combine that with Italian and Greek heritage, and you get a little stick of dynomite. Dynomite. That's me. Full of energy, never one to let her height be a handicap. If there is something out of reach way up on a shelf, then I'll just access the handy stepstool climb up and get it, already.

But even though I don't stand over 5' without stilettos, and the passing years may have even stolen whatever .8 of an inch I could claim in my total height, I have aged. I don't get asked for my I.D. anymore when buying alcohol. Walking around with four boys in tow does not make people do a double-take and wonder if they are my sons or my brothers. Because I look my age. That would be forty for any of you who haven't been paying attention or are new to my site.

Still, I do not bristle when the priest at my church stops at my pew on his way out at the end of mass to tousle my hair as if I am a small child, with the entire congregation looking on. He doesn't mean any ill will. He is probably not more than 5'5" himself, and probably gets some kind of satisfaction at finding other adults shorter than himself.

And I don't get offended when some of my closest friends give me a little pat on the back head for a job well done in being their most loyal friends. Because I can be fun and even though I wasn't born with the tall genes, I was born with a sense of humor.

If I am referred to as "Kiddo" instead of "Kerri", I don't correct the person making the insult remark. I'm young at heart, so it is easy to see how they might want to give me that nickname. And really, that's okay. I don't mind.

I recently discovered a great local shoe store that sells stylish, yet comfortable shoes with heals. My shoe inventory is changing. I'll still wear the flats, but choose the shoes that give me an extra 2" more often than not. Because wearing them makes me feel tall and I love to pretend I'm tall even when I'm not because I can be somebody of average height with a sense of humor rather than a short person with a sense of humor. And for some reason, people aren't as inclined to pat my head when we are standing eye to eye just like they aren't inclined to pat the belly of a woman who isn't pregnant.

Today, I am especially thankful for shoes. And my sense of humor.