The tears of a (short) clown..

As someone who spends her entire life online peddling her written wares for the world to see, I realise there are certain responsibilities I must take on board. One important one is to raise awareness of serious issues affecting certain people in the world today. I’m all about issues, me. So the cause I wish to take up in this blog is one that is very close to my heart. It is the plight of The Shortarse. My name is J-Ro and I am a Shortarse. There, I said it…<exhale>. The weight has been lifted. Probably up to where I couldn’t reach it anyway.

Us poor short people live in a world that tells us we need to dislocate our shoulders to reach our favourite groceries, to endure nosebleeds wearing high heels, to have a buddy system in place in order to sit on a high bar stool….and to dismount from said bar stool. To go to ballet classes from a young age so we can stand on our tiptoes for many minutes at a time as we wait to get served in pubs, and to watch the awestruck faces of the bar staff as we lower ourselves down with our drinks in hand and scuttle away like toddlers with new sweets.

There worse stories out there. Mostly mine to be honest. But the world needs a laugh so here you go. Actually most of these things happen in bars for some reason, I’m not an alcoholic I swear, not even a drinker, but I have a social life so there you go! Bring back Java’s and I’ll situate most of my ‘short’ stories in a coffee shop! I was once in an establishment up the country a few years ago, standing room only, chatting to some friends of mine. All of a sudden I feel this cold, glassy, wet weight on my head…I look up to see this rugger-hugger D4 type gowl chatting to his mate Turlough or whatever his name was, blindly attempting to REST HIS PINT ON MY HEAD. I should point out that I was standing next to a very high ledge already piled high with drinks..so imagine his surprise when that ledge suddenly shouted ‘Hey!! What the f**k??’  At least he had the good grace to look ‘morto’. At least he had the reflex to remove the pint before it toppled and turned me into a future slapstick movie scene…

THEN there was the time I spent 15 long agonising minutes loitering around a grocery aisle in Safeway in London awaiting the arrival of a knight in shining armour to reach up and grab a jar of peanut butter. But oh no, I got no knight…instead I got a rather tall older lady looking at me like I was a lost child. So I ignored my rising embarrassment and asked her if she wouldn’t mind using her freakish gawkiness to help me obtain my nutritional goal. Scarlet I was…

So in short (!) life is hard for a midge like me. But it makes for an interesting roller-coaster ride through life. The endless days of sitting on chairs with my legs swinging aimlessly, the heart-stopping fear as you approach a fairground ride and hope you are, in fact, ‘this tall’ to go on it, the humiliation when you’re standing behind someone in a queue and they take your hand and tell you to ‘come on’ because they think you’re their child standing next to them and they don’t bother to turn their head….although it is TOTALLY worth it to watch them talk their way out of it when they look round and see me grinning like a psycho. Makes it worse for them when I keep hold of their hand the entire time. Well a girl’s got to have her fun…

About JayRow

Singer, songwriter, student radio broadcaster, teacher, commitment-phobe, depressive, loudmouth, Facebook obsessive, blogging addict, celebrity hassler, professional stalker, pipe dreamer, ambitious young thing!
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One Comment

  1. “The weight has been lifted. Probably up to where I couldn’t reach it anyway.”

    To coin a phrase your end of the country would be familiar with. Pure Brilliance!

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