I love that I always see the best looking guys at the gas station because there is almost nothing I can do about it under those circumstances. “I notice you too are fueling you vehicle with regular unleaded gasoline.” “Soooo would you want to share this diet coke I’m buying…over dinner….before a movie?” “No? Cool, me neither.” Don’t worry I’ve already had every conversation with myself that I could possibly ever have with you. I’m always talking to my friends like, don’t you know I already had this conversation for us? You said you didn’t want go to this thing, I said I didn’t care and really wanted you to come, you said you had to do this other thing, I said you can do that other thing later and I’ll even help you, you said I don’t know, I said I think you do know…so can we just skip to the part where you are coming with me?
I hate hate hate when you are signing up for an account on a website and you start typing your new password when this pure EVIL message pops up saying Too Short. Are you fucking kidding me right now? I’m not even finished typing yet! Get off my back! My anger could also be stemming from my over-sensitivity to the word short. Even the world wide web knows I’m vertically challenged.
Short Girl Problems:
1.Sometimes when I walk into a bar, coffee shop, or other public place, I immediately sense it. Somewhere in that public place, he has spotted me. The short guy in the room has spotted me. I can just feel him thinking, Oooooooohhhhhh yyeeeaaaahhhh, target acquired. I am shorter than him and unbelievably cute, meaning that I have already met 2 out of his 2 criteria for sleeping with me. I just hope he can feel ME thinking, Access denied.
(FYI: I don’t discriminate based on height when dating.)
2.Everyone in the world has this innately desperate need to inform me of my height. They are always like, “Awwww you’re so short.” Then I’m like, “Awwww I fucking hate everything about you, you fucking tall fucking freak.” Excuse my language. Or don’t.
3.Sometimes I’m not tall enough to ride the roller coaster….of life.
4.Sometimes, although I fight the urge desperately, I have to recognize that my height often means my head is going to meet the level of some basketball player, Lebron wannabe crotch. (For those of you who read my previous posts…that has to be on the rape spectrum somewhere.)
5. Not only does my face look like I am twelve….and a half years old, but my height confirms that I may not be of legal drinking age so you should probably stare at my driver’s license for twenty minutes diverting your focus from me…back to the id…then to me…back to the id…then to me…well you get the IDea (get the pun?) But go ahead, continue looking at me like I’m smuggling drugs across the border…
(FYI: I am 22 years old, look at my bachelor’s degree bitches.)
Don’t get me wrong, I love being short…like more than life itself, but these things get pretty damn irritating! What does a girl have to do to be 5’6…and blonde…and blue-eyed… (sorry I’m trying to breed the fittest, whitest population here). Just kidding, I’m not Hitler (most days), but really…Why can’t I be tall? (tall people, collectively, are my skeezes of the day)
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