Wednesday, 3 August 2011

It's Like a Pitbull vs. A Chihuahua

I sometimes forget how tiny I really am. Maybe that's because I'm used to it. I know from talking to people that they also forget how short/tiny/small/pocketsized I am, that is until we are standing beside each other and then they realize their mistake. I remember one time I had been talking on the phone with a designer or someone with similar skills about a project that they were working on for me, and we set up a meeting to discuss parameters. Upon meeting and getting past the pleasantries and what was expected of this project they turned to me and said, "you sound taller on the phone". How someone can sound taller is beyond me, but no word of a lie, that was said to me. Most of my friends are significantly taller than I am and I think that they have gotten used to it, and possibly forgotten how tiny I am. Like I said, sometimes I even forget, but there are always those times that I am reminded of the fact that I am 5'0 tall. Like when I go to buy pants. I love buying those nice, expensive pairs of jeans (7 for All Mankind, Rock & Republic, Citizens of Humanity, Joe's, etc), however I often wonder what's the point of paying so much for them when I end up hemming a good 7 inches off the legs. That's like at least $100 worth of denim right there! I am also reminded of my smallness when I drive. When I was 16 and had my very first car, a green 1996 Saturn that I nicknamed the Yeti (mostly because of the seat covers my dad put on it), I had to sit on a pillow in order to see over the steering wheel. My seat was so close to the steering wheel that it was dangerous and could have possibly beheaded me if the airbags had gone off. I just reached the pedals. Sure, I am also reminded by people who love to make short jokes, and believe me, I have heard every one out there. It's a fact of my life that I have learned to live with.

There are some occasions that really bring the reality of my smallness home, and last night at soccer was one of those occasions. Despite the fact that I am 5'0 and about 102lbs soaking wet, I can be pretty aggressive. I don't like to be pushed around, but then again, I don't think anyone does. I used to be far more aggressive than I am now, but every now and again, when the stars are aligned and the circumstances are just right, the old Leah comes out to play. I was defending against a player who was easily 7 inches taller and about 50lbs heavier than I am. She had the ball and I didn't want to let her turn so she could take it up field, so I was a little pushy from behind. She then proceeded to ELBOW me in the face, and on a normal person it would have been in the chest, but on me, it was my face, and I like to keep that semi-attractive thank you very much. It was rather uncalled for if you ask me. Using a couple choice words, which may or may not have been explicit, I told her to watch her elbow. What happened next is a bit of a blur. She turned and started yelling obscenities at me, and I gave them right back (not necessarily one of my finer moments). F-bombs were flying and we were just screaming at each other. If I was a gangsta the phrase I would use to describe what happened is, "She was all up in my grill, yo!". It ended with her telling me "if you can't take it, don't dish it out", to which I responded,"just because you have substantial weight doesn't mean you need to throw it around". A bit uncalled for? Maybe. But with the way things were going it looked like things were going to get physical, and I can tell you in all certainty, that if she had touched me, I would have clocked her in the face. No word of a lie. I know for a fact that if it came down to blows, I would have lost, but as long as I had gotten that one good hit in, I would take whatever came my way. However, it didn't get physical, as the ref, who had been standing there with a bemused expression on his face, finally decided to get the game going again. I was taken off 5 minutes later. (I really hope you all have an amazing mental picture of this happening. From what I am told, it was very amusing to watch.)

Perhaps me forgetting how small I am is a bad thing, because I often underestimate my opponent. Should I have egged her on? Probably not, but again, I forgot. It's like trying to watch a Chihuahua fight a Pitbull. It's kind of cute and amusing at first, and then it gets a little out of hand, and the chihuahua gets hurt if someone doesn't step in. I guess what I am saying is that my bark is worse than my bite, but I am willing to bite if necessary? Maybe? All I know is that a couple of my team mates told me that they would have had my back, which is nice. They also told me it was really funny to watch. So, I guess as long as I provided some kind of entertainment my job is done? Maybe? Maybe I should learn to be more like Gandhi. Doubtful...

xoxo
Leah

2 comments:

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  2. Gandhi, eh? Well, I'd say you've got Napoleon down pretty good. Short, bites off more than you can chew, etc. Plus I know he's your (let me see if I get this right) "favourite megalomaniac midget dictator." ;)


    Edit: for the sake of capitalization.

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