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Short Stuff

July 06, 2009  Author: Anthony Pacheco Category: Not Exactly Random   0 Comments

I used to be short.

We’re talking the smallest guy at school and shorter than most of the girls.

I never worried about my shortness. It just never bothered me. Until, that is, all my friends hit puberty, and there I was, stuck in some timeless boyhood.

It was a strange time. There would be some hot, young woman sitting next to me in class, and, essentially, she was a goddess of beauty to my newly hormone infused brain. Only, I clearly recognized, I didn’t exist. I was a boy, someone to be baby-sat on the weekends for gas money.

Okay, done being short now!

They say be careful what you ask for, as you might get it. And in the space of a half a year I went from short to average.

And, that hurt. It hurt a lot. I remember waking up in the middle of the night and putting ice on my knees. Falling down simply walking or riding my bike peppered me with bruises. One time someone even asked me, on the sly, if my parents were smacking me around.

Ah, no. I did that quite well enough myself, thank you!

*trip*

*thud*

Then one day I found my internal rhythm, where my brain figured out this new body thing and sleeping twelve hours a day on the weekend was no longer necessary. It was a different world. The transition was sudden and intense and what the heck happened to my complexion?

I used to be short.

Then I grew very quickly.

Then a girl kissed me.

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