I just had lunch with my wonderfully tall friend Brian, wherein we discussed midgets and baby tigers. (Exact quote: “I mean, really Sarah, last night we watched some documentary on baby tigers, and they were so fucking cute, I swear to God.”)
Him: Have you seen those things on MTV, those documentary things, like Oh My God, I’m a Sorority Girl, or Oh My God, I’m Going to Fat Camp?
Me: No! Wait. Yes. Was there ever an Oh My God, I’m a Little Person one?
Him: Yes! That one ruled.
Me: You know, for all my bitching and complaining, at least I can say thank God I’m not three feet tall.
Him: I know! Short people have got it bad. I mean, I can’t even imagine being, like, 5’9”.
Me: Shut up! I’m 5’5”!
Him: No way!
Me: Yes! I hate it. I always think of myself as tall in my mind’s eye.
Him: I always think of you as tall, too. If it’s any consolation, you seem at least 5’6”.
Me: Thanks. What would you do if you were short?
Him: I don’t know. Play soccer?