My Body

I know, I’m supposed to love my body. Oprah says so. Well, I’m trying. It’s just that there are so many things I wouldn’t have put my stamp of approval on if I’d been there when it was put together.

 

My neck, for instance. I don’t really have one. My head basically sits about an inch above my shoulders. Seriously. Turtlenecks – not happening. I mean, if I put on a turtleneck, I could rob a bank with no worries whatsoever of being identified. Choker necklaces? Kind of like nooses, strangling included. I am so envious of those women with swan-like necks who can wear stand-up collars, and scarves, and long earrings!! On me, long earrings become a necklace.

 

Moving down, we have my boobs. I have the breasts of a much taller person. Maybe if I were 5’6, or so, I could carry them off. As it is, when I look at myself, I see boobs galore. I mean, they’re nice and everything, and men seem to like them, there’s just so much of them. And needless to say, after 50 years, they’re not exactly where they started out. And when I put on my bra, the nipples end up in different places. One’s pointing east, one’s sort of southwest. People with normal-sized boobs don’t have to worry about nipple misalignment. I’m fairly certain of this.

 

And then we have my waist. Or not. It’s not that I don’t have a waist. I’m pretty curvy as far as that’s concerned. It’s just that my waist is a couple of inches below those glorious boobs. There’s no real space to accessorize. If I wear high-waisted pants I can carry my breasts in my pockets – they’re just a little off to the sides. If I wear a belt, I don’t need a bra. It’s efficient, but it’s just not all that comfortable.

 

I’m just realizing that most of my problems have to do with height, or lack thereof. If I were taller, my neck would be longer, my waist would be lower, and my chest would be more in proportion with the rest of me. Sagging might still be an issue, but there’d be more distance to my bellybutton. It’s a question of esthetics.

 

Height has always been an issue for me. When I was young, and always the smallest in my class, my mother used to tell me to wait. “Just wait,” she said. “You’ll grow.” I remember being enamored of the new girl, Missy Molina. Not because she was such a nice person, but because she was actually shorter than I was -- a miracle! Then she moved to another town. There I am, line leader once again. Then, in fifth grade, when my best friends were a head and a half taller than me, I was still waiting, and mom would say, “They’ve already got breasts. They’ll stop growing and you will catch up and be taller than they are.” She lied. Oh, they stopped growing, but I never really started. Where’s the justice?

 

(I might not mind it as much if everyone in my family were short. Then, I wouldn’t be such an oddity. But my father is normal height, as is my mother, sister and brother. No, I got to take after my paternal grandmother’s side of the family, who are short, fat and buxom. Go genetics.)

 

See, when someone asks, “What do you want to be when you grow up?” the answer is seldom, “taller.” But I always thought I’d grow UP when I grew up. Never happened. I hit 5’ in ninth grade, squeaked out another ½ inch, grew boobs with a vengeance, and that was that. I still can’t reach the top shelf in grocery stores, have to order THROUGH the deli counter, and suffer through subways and crowded elevator rides amidst a sea of armpits. Really. Think about where your head is in a crowd. Now mine. Somewhat less pleasant, isn’t it?

 

 Mom once asked me if I’d date a man who was shorter than me. I said, “There are no men shorter than me.” On the plus side, I do have a wider range of dating possibilities, although dating really tall guys becomes a question of, “His face isn’t that familiar, but I’d know that bellybutton anywhere.” Holding hands feels like a little kid walking with daddy. It’s just not conducive to feeling sexy-- more to feeling short, puny, runt-like – you get the picture.

 

So, Oprah, here we have it. No neck, no waist, big boobs, abreviated stature. Ok, I’m trying to love my body, I just wish I’d had some say in the design.