Every one of us has obstacles in our lives which we must overcome.  Even those who appear to have everything still struggle with a nagging self-doubt that threatens their happiness.  If life is a card game, no one begins with a royal flush.  Yet we all have to play the hand we are dealt.  With this in mind, I offer a piece of my life story in the hopes that it will help you write your own.  But don’t worry! It’s a short story.

For those of you I have not met, I have a confession to make.  I am vertically challenged.  OK, OK.  I’m short!  A mere sixty-five inches tall, give or take a fraction of an inch.  The average American male stands five feet and ten inches tall, so at five feet and five inches, I am more than a stone’s throw away from the mean.  I have to admit that I have not always been cool with my stature, or lack thereof.  I have had a love-hate-love relationship with my height.

As a child, I had no issue at all with being short.  As I am rediscovering as a parent of two small children, “cuteness” is currency.  Everywhere we go today, we get free stuff simply because our kids are cute (of course, I cannot be an impartial judge of cuteness where my children are concerned).  However, this is no revelation to me because I used to be a cute kid once too.  Being short simply ratchets up the “cute factor,” a huge competitive advantage for a child. 

When I was young, the most successful kids were the short, cute ones.  Emmanuel Lewis was making cream hand over fist as TV’s “Webster.”  Gary Coleman took his “what you talkin’ bout, Willis” hook all the way to the bank on Diff’rent Strokes.  He was making more jack than most actors of any age back in the 80’s.  Little did I know that they were both 23 year old dudes playing 8 year-olds on TV.  What they were doing was working, so I didn’t see being short as a liability.  Plus, I saw being short as a temporary condition to be solved after my growth spurt hit.  Needless to say, my growth spurt was more like a growth trickle.

As I moved into my late teen years, I started to resent the hand I was dealt.  My mother is about 5 feet 2.  Her mother, my grandmother, is well south of the five foot line.  I didn’t have a chance of getting any taller!  When I started to do my “research,” I discovered that there were many occupations I could cross off my list simply due to my height.  I could forget about being a professional athlete, unless I wanted to be a jockey or a race car driver.  Neither of those would have worked for me as I was allergic to hay and high speed collisions into cement walls.

I could forget about being the President of the United States, too.  I bet you didn’t know that it is illegal for a short person to be the President.  You weren’t aware of the Anti-Short Person Act?  Well, there isn’t one really, but there might as well be.  Did you know that the shorter person has never won a Presidential election?  Ever!  Even before there was TV, it never happened.  I suppose the public could tell which candidate sounded shorter on the radio.  Is there any good reason why the President must be tall?  It’s like we expect the President not only to govern effectively but also be able to win a fistfight versus the random world leader as well.  (Just for the record, I am sure I can take Kim Jong-il!).  Short people even have a neurosis dedicated to them.  The so-called Napoleon Complex is a phenomenon by which short people become ill-tempered in response to their lack of vertical gifts.  This is also referred to as the “Short Man’s Complex.”  Have you ever heard of a “Tall Man’s Complex?”  Sounds like discrimination to me!  At any rate, in my teens, I did not like being short at all!

As I matured a bit more, I gained some perspective regarding my height and even learned to embrace it.  There are many advantages to being short.  For example, I am always very comfortable on planes. I never have to duck to enter the plane’s entrance and, upon reaching my seat, my knees never hit the seat in front of mine.  Wee legs equal plenty of leg room!  Speaking of wee legs, a tailor never has any problem finding enough material to give me the perfect inseam.  And let’s say I am wearing those perfect pants in a bar and a fight breaks out.  In the midst of this bar fight, if some vertically enhanced man is looking for someone at which to swing, he will not see me.  I will be out of his line of sight.  However, if he does happen to see me, I am just the right height to make his life uncomfortable…if you know what I mean.  In these and many other ways, being short can be an asset.

No one, and I mean no one, is dealt the perfect hand in life.  The key to the winning the game of life is skillfully playing the hand you’re dealt.  More often than not, you win the game not by changing the cards in your hand, but by changing your mind about how you view those cards.  Your attitude is your gift, your ability to make short work (corny!) of any problem you may face.