S.O.S.! My Butt is Growing With my WIP!
Contributor

I am five feet tall exactly. 
In a large crowd, I am absorbed, unseen.

 

Growing up short, I was teased. I’d hear, “Shorty, stand up!
OH, that’s right, you already are!”

 

It bothered me to no end when I was young and cared how others saw me, but there was nothing I could do to be taller.



Today, 5 feet is the average height of a fifth grader.  I’m related to a few of those lucky kids, my nieces,
9 and 11 years old, and could, if so moved, borrow their  Justin Bieber  concert t-shirts or their expensive Ugg boots
( with room to boot).



In addition to having access to a tween’s wardrobe, there are other bonuses to being short.  I can
hit the jackpot on the clearance shelf since I don’t have much competition in the extra small department or the size 6 1/2 shoe rack. I am a hit at Limbo,being that I don’t have to bend much to hit the ground. Rock climbing and gymnastics come naturally to my stocky body, and, my favorite bonus, I make an excellent shoulder rest for my son who is 6’1” when he’s tired.

 

Normally, these days, I don’t mind being petite.  There aren’t too many downsides besides the teasing.  I am vertically challenged which does not always behoove my viewing capabilities.   Concerts and movies theaters are tough.  I feel like a small child, jumping up to see into the window whenever I am surrounded by adults. Everyone else seems tall compared to me.

 

Lately though, since I have been determined to take a year off of life to write my novel, I have noticed a change- a shift to be more precise.  While the scale has me only gaining five pounds, the weight, annoyingly has progressed to the least active of my body parts- my butt. I sit much more as a writer than I did as a nanny. My upper body, which types away, must be burning calories because it remains unchanged. The area of my body which would welcome the five pounds, my breasts,
of course are not the lucky recipients of the weight gain.  It’s my seat- which has, spread.

 

I remember being in middle school before I shot up from 4’10”.  My body morphed a tad wider.  I remember that my neighbor had seen me from across the street and called to me. but she was calling my mom’s name, not mine.  She thinks I’m Mom! Kill me now!   Mom’s body had given birth to five kids!  I was twelve and mistaken for a forty something mom who wore a girdle!

 

That was before I grew my last sacred and appreciated two inches.  Those two inches were a bag of flour, all congregating contently, like cookies, on my butt.

 

While I love writing and welcome this opportunity to devote time to my novel, I am not happy about the five lbs.  Five pounds on a tall person goes unnoticed.  It’s an eyelash.  Five pounds on a petite frame goes to the ass. Here’s the perfect visual, demonstrated with an analogy:

 

 Small person less five pounds: Ellen Page:: small person with extra 5 pounds :big booty: Kim Kardashian

 

I’ve got junk in my trunk again and my kids think it’s funny.

 

While being JLO is ok for a year, I’m thinking I should start typing a tad faster. Who knows, if my butt gets too crowded for those pounds, they might start creeping elsewhere.  Then I will have to buy a new wardrobe (first time since 1989) to accommodate my portly self which will offset the earnings from my first book. That would be just my luck.

 

 All of this writing has made me hungry.  I think I’ll have a cookie- or maybe I’ll  just sit on one.

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