The Truth About Dwarfism (Hint: It’s No Different From Humanity)
The measure of a man is not his height
I stand 48 inches tall in my stocking feet.
That doesn’t mean I’m a halfling who needs pitying, pampering, or fetishizing. Nor am I an inspiration. I’m a human being trying to figure out this thing called life one step at a time, just like you. As for a politically correct label to affix to me (remember that no one likes to be referred to by a label), my first name will work almost every time. But if you’re in search of a term to describe my most noticeable physical feature, “hot” is always welcome (just kidding). “Short” or “short-statured” both work, but “Little Person” is the preferred term.
I find it strange that people interpret my silence as me being unaffected by the looks, stares, pointing, giggling, and countless other feeble attempts and not-so-subtle ways people attempt to demean me. Perhaps my silence belies the strength that comes from successfully thriving under the weight of challenges that might crush their soul to smithereens before they reached the first 100 yards of walking a mile in my shoes. I just choose to take the high road.
While the chances are slim to nil that I will get a major league sports deal, there are dozens — if not hundreds — of other career options available…
