Stand Up

I have been under-tall my whole life. No matter what stage of development I was in, I was always a little shorter than my peers. There is a picture of me at fourteen months old, sitting on the couch in my great-grandmother’s house in Philadelphia. My older sister, Candice, is seated next to me. My younger sister, Kelli, was only a month old at the time. She is draped across my lap, looking up at me. I appear to be struggling slightly to hold the baby. Even at just over a year old, I look smaller than the infant that is perched on top of me. My younger sister would grow into the sister that was always taller than I was, even though I was the older sibling.

Maybe that is why I have always been fascinated with tall people. They draw my attention and I find myself staring at them. I know it’s rude, but I’m hoping that as a shorter person, I’m somehow also regarded as “cute” and certain social indignities are forgiven. Probably not, but I’ll keep rolling with it. Ignorance is bliss, after all.

The problem with being fascinated with tall people goes beyond my impolite lack of a quality poker face. My boorishness is evident when I sidle up to tall people, with or without their permission, to measure myself against them. And in case you’re wondering, my fascination with the height-advantaged in our society is not gender-specific. I am in just as much wonderment with tall men as I am with tall women. It’s about the height, not the person carrying it.

Unfortunately, there is one aspect of my gender-neutral fixation that may be a problem for the human monolith in front of me:  boobs. My petite stature puts me chest level with anyone over the height of five feet six inches. I can’t help but stare at a woman’s boobs! I know I’m supposed to cast my gaze upwards, but it’s hard when those things are right in front of me. Again, maybe it’s based in an “I-don’t-have” fixation.

What I lack in height and mammary glands, I certainly make up for in vocal ability. No, I don’t sing. Ask my husband. About six months into dating, we were riding in his car, headed somewhere, and I was singing along to the radio. While we were stopped at a traffic light, he looked over at me with a small smile on his face. I shifted in my seat to face him a little better for the serenade. When I finished, he simply said, “Geez, when I met you, I thought you sang like a lark.” And so ended my own personal car-karaoke when we were together.

So that thing about me that is larger than most, and not easily contained is my voice. I am loud! I have a voice that bellows and begs to be heard. I don’t need a megaphone for people to listen to me and I probably don’t need this microphone. I’m pretty sure if I wanted to, we could seat people in the parking lot, and if the doors are open, they’ll be able to hear me just fine.

For some people it’s a curse. Ask anyone that has sat next to me at one of my girls’ basketball games over the last eleven years. I choose to see it as a blessing. No one strained to hear me say, “I do!” at my wedding. People don’t sit at parties and question, “What did she say?” No one has ever said, “Can you please speak up?”

I like to think that these characteristics, among other things, make me someone that is a bit of an anomaly. Like a mullet that is all play in the front and all business in the back, I am understated on the outside and stentorian from within!

With that sort of skill, I could be my own MC, introducing myself wherever I go. But it would be nicer to hear other people welcome me into a group or a room.  Particularly any of those tall people that I encounter. I can hear it now. They would take a firm, assertive stance, and channeling their best inner Tony Montana, they would exclaim, “Say Hello, to my Little Friend!”

 

This piece is not called “Stand Up” because of the obvious subject matter about height. Instead, it is inspired by a variety of thoughts. Last weekend I learned there is Open Mic every Sunday night at The Stomping Ground in Putnam, CT. Since then, I have been considering doing an open reading from the novel I completed last year and am currently still editing. But I also wondered what it would be like to do stand-up comedy. I thought back to Cindy from Worcester Academy who was pursuing her comedic side by participating in Open Mic nights around Worcester. I thought of Kelsie’s boyfriend who is doing the same out in San Francisco. And before I thought about what I could even say that is funny, this concept came into my head. I pictured myself on stage, and I heard myself deliver it, and I thought it actually had some funny components to it. I cannot imagine ever doing stand up with this piece, or any other, but I am glad that I tried it out, at least from a theoretical point of view.

So, thank you very much! I will NOT be here all week. Good night!