In the fourth grade, I was the tallest girl in the class. Hell, I was one of the tallest PEOPLE in the class, prepubescent, awkward, smelly boys included. But then, as time went on, something weird happened. Whenever called to line up according to height, I slowly progressed back through the line. I thought I was shrinking, I had to be.
I went home to my mother, certain that I was a victim of the cruel movie Honey I Shrunk the Kids, and that any day I would be back up at the front of the line. But, alas, she told me that everyone was experiencing growth spurts, and mine would probably just be a little later — I would know because I would be hungry and my bones would be sore.
I waited patiently for these mysterious “growing pains” my mother promised me, only to remain a barely there 5 feet and 2 inches until the present time — quite a bit past the fourth grade.I suppose when I was younger I was frequently upset by my vertical challenges, however as I’ve gotten older, I’ve grown to appreciate it and I think tall people should be jealous of me. 😉
Now, at age nineteen (and eight months — thank you), as a sophomore in college, I know what these “growing pains” are that Mama Dort spoke of. Except, oddly enough, the pain isn’t so much in my bones as in my brain.
I’m changing everything about myself, but I’m doing it for me. I am growing as a person. I don’t want to make everyone else happy, I want to make myself happy. I started a new diet and exercise plan — okay maybe that’s the physical pain, I changed my major, started a blog, promised myself to change everything about my life that made me unhappy.
Its a process — and a long one at that. One that I wish had happened before I was two years into college, but hey, I guess I’m just a late bloomer. So I might always be 5 feet tall, but at least I will be the person I want to be, and the pains will be worth it.