I AM THE ACTION FIGURE...

version of my big brother.  You see, he's 6'3 and change... Me, I'm 5'9... in stilettos.  I never once thought I would be a SHORT man.  When my brother, who is 5 and a half years my senior, hit his growth spurt during his first two years of High School, I was sure I was in good shape.  At that point (4th grade for me), I was one of the tallest kids in my class.  The future looked oh so bright... Little did I know I was in for a life of size SMALL T-shirts and wearing baby KEDS on my feet.

Back in Middle School, I was the first kid with hairy armpits.  I was the first kid with muscles.  I had big hands, big feet, and a big... HEAD.  I was always one of the fastest kids in my class, as well as one of the best athletes.  I thought by the time I was 16, I would be a GIANT.  Yeah, I was a little off.  The doctors used to tell me there was a chance I would be 6'5.  I can't believe a respected University gave those assholes a degree.  I never really grew after the 7th grade.  I had no spine problems, no problems with my legs... I just stopped growing.

When I went off to High School, it didn't matter how big I was as long as I was good enough to help the teams I played for WIN.  And I did just that.  When you're little, you have to gain respect in other ways.  You have to be tough.  You have to be quick.  You have to hit harder than everyone else.  And most importantly, you can't take shit from ANYONE.  So I didn't... and I had a successful High School career.

Even though on the outside I seemed happy and confident with myself, I was always pissed that I was short.  I still hoped I'd grow.  I remembered the days when I was taller than everyone else, or at least as tall... then suddenly I was one of the little guys.  By the time I got to college, I was still the same height as I was in 7th grade... what a bummer... and I finally came to the conclusion that my growth had come to a screeching halt long ago.

In college I continued my athletic prowess.  I played football... defensive back.  Everyone was always put in front of me because they were bigger.  I had to work 10 times as hard as the other guys just to get noticed.  I had to truly, in every sense of the word, earn every bit of playing time I got.  One time during Spring Practice, we were scrimmaging the Offense.  A pass came my way and I hit a friend of mine (the guy is 3 times my size) who the pass was intended for, as hard as I could.  I knocked him down.  They didn't complete the pass.  He got up and the coach screamed at him.  He said, "What the Hell are you doing?  Catch the God Damned ball!!! You just got crushed by a MIDGET!"  I stood there pretending to be a badass and then yelled, "Hey Coach, FUCK YOU!"  Needless to say, I was thrown out of practice.  Afterwards that same coach approached me and said, "What are you nuts?  You can't talk to me like that."  I responded, "Yup, and neither can you."  He looked at me for a second and laughed.  "You're gonna get me fired."  I said sorry.  He patted me on the back, smiled and said... "I fucking love you... I wish you would come play offense."  I nodded.  He then said, "If we only had more guys like you?"  I said, "If we had more guys like me, we'd be Ireland's national soccer team, not a Division 1 football team." 

Now I'm definitely NOT condoning telling authority figures to go fuck themselves.  You should probably listen to them, but sometimes you have to stick up for yourself.  I knew I wasn't a midget, but I had to let everyone else know I was not to be fucked with.  I guess that was my brief taste of what they call having "A NAPOLEAN COMPLEX".

To be honest, being short isn't all that bad.  I find it comforting to be of average height.  People expect less of you.  When you're tall, you are supposed to be successful.  Look at the numbers, taller people have an easier path to the top.  Well it's not a breeze, but people definitely notice you more when your head is sticking out over the crowd.   And the whole Napolean Complex thing is a mystery to me.  Short guys that act out to get attention and to over-compensate for their SHORT comings are just dickheads and I dislike them more than anyone else.  You're giving the rest of us a bad name.  So cool it, little guy.

This one time last year, I was headed out to see a couple of friends at a bar.  We were meeting this group of girls (volleyball players), all of whom were very tall.  I get a text from my buddy who was already there saying, "Dude you might not want to come... unless you are prepared to speak to breasts all night."  I thought... this is going to be a great night.  I show up at the joint, grab a cocktail, and watch all of my friends hitting on these tall chicks and failing miserably.  So after a few hours, the hottest girl of the group comes over to me (she's a good 4 inches taller) and says, "You haven't said a word to me all night... What's your deal?"  Some balls this filly had, huh?  And I hate it when people ask me what my deal is.  My DEAL is, I was having a fabulous time until you came over to me and asked me that, now I want to drink my face off until I need my stomach pumped just to make sure this is my worst nightmare.  Sorry, I tend to get off topic... So I answer her stupid question with, "I'm good BREEDING material."  She looks down at me like Andre the Giant did to Hulk Hogan in WRESTLEMANIA and then bursted out laughing.  She said, "That is the greatest thing any guy has ever said to me."  I say, "I bet."  She says, "No, you don't understand, every guy I ever meet says that I'M GOOD BREEDING MATERIAL and they want have kids with me."  I'm nodding and smiling thinking, "No shit, Sherlock, why the fuck do you think I said it?"  So she says, "Come on, I want to buy you a drink!"  So I got my drink and I entertained her for a few minutes.  Once I realized she indeed was as dumb as a box of HAMMERS, I made like titties and bounced.  It didn't matter to me that she wanted to "hang out" because I had already achieved victory.

It doesn't matter how tall you are... It's our WITS that take us to great heights, not our wingspans.  Maybe I can't get on the big kid rides at Six Flags.  Maybe I have to shop at the Baby Gap.  Maybe my nickname was LUCKY CHARMS in college.  Maybe my T-shirts fit your kid sister and maybe I have to stand on a few phone books to give you a hug, but I'm fine with that.  The closer to the ground I am, the more leverage I have.  Hey, at least I don't have to worry about dying a tragic death on a roller coaster... And if the 50-FOOT WOMAN ever attacks; I'm pretty sure I have shot.