It sometimes happens, particularly when physically weary, that I become estranged with the dimensions of my own body. Lying down, I peer at my feet and realize that they are now so far away that my myopic eyes can no longer hold them in focus. Upon waking, I sometimes have a powerful sense memory of the size and shape of myself as a ten year old. I am amazed at the swath of air my arm passes through as I wave it in front me. I experience simultaneous microclimates on a regular basis.

In the worst of these moments I am appalled at the energy it takes to move this thing around, the water required to clean it off, the amount of fabric required to cover it. I am embarrassed when I hear stairs or furniture complain of me. When did this happen? What am I supposed to do with all of this? My 10 year old self thought being big would be exciting. He did not anticipate basketball causing blisters the size of apricots. He did not remotely imagine the day when he would have to seriously think about tailoring. He dared not consider the possibility of submerging no more than one third of himself in a bathtub.

Some of my more diminutive friends have pointed out that it just doesn’t pay to be physically small in today’s world. That may be so, but I think the tables are about to turn. It just isn’t going to pay to be my size when the water crisis comes to bear. When the time comes to migrate to mars, I will not be invited. My kind just aren’t going to work in the high efficiency regime required for the future of humanity. If idle wishing had any power in this world, I would certainly have grown up to be not a medium-large human being, but a dinosaur. In a way, maybe my wish was granted.


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4 Responses to “Growing”

  1. hannah Says:

    quite your whining you big oaf. at least you can reach the top shelf of EVERYTHING.

  2. Ryan Says:

    You can totally have some of my water if you’ll help me lug my futon to Mars.

  3. Sage Says:

    My brain is a microclimate. Sometimes there are little storms going on. And, on the cellular level, there are eruptions, like sunspots in the nuclei.
    Further, into the strings, there are mysterious black holes, absorbing information, contracting, contracting until an enormous implosion occurs spewing debris through the dimensional portals. And, in all this activity, I remain sane, in spite of microclimatic chaos. And of this I am insanely proud.

  4. maureen Says:

    First, thanks to Hannah I’d like to use the term “oaf” more often. Second, another disadvantage is that, according to you, small people have lower blood pressure. But tall people look better in cowboy boots–maybe you should give that a shot.

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