Yesterday, a few of my colleagues at my internship asked me how old I am. Their jaws dropped at my response of 26. I love such reactions, but I remembered that it wasn't always the case.
Growing up I was shorter than my peers by quite a bit. One fact that I use to emphasize it when I tell the story to new friends - I was the shortest girl in my class up until I got to 10th grade. It took me becoming a 15-year-old to finally outgrow someone in my class. What was it like being the shortest one for so long? Not easy. It involved quite a bit of bullying, teasing, and feeling inferior because of my height. For context purposes - Lithuanians are very tall people.
I remember walking around school with my closest friends, who were significantly taller, all of us aged 11, and some first-grader commenting along the lines of "What is a third-grader doing with sixth-graders?!" That kind of comments hurt even if they came from clueless seven-year-olds. All the while everyone kept saying one day I'll be happy that people think I'm much younger than I actually am. Yet all I wanted was to be the same as my friends, to feel that I was worth more than all the comments about my appearance.
I remember coming back to school after the summer holidays and teachers seemingly thinking "guess this wasn't a summer of growth for this one". It isn't just an assumption, by the way, they used to ask me when I was finally going to grow taller. Ouch. Let's not forget yearly measurements at the school nurse's office, where she'd blurt out something like "So short, but seem fully developed otherwise" and I suddenly felt that my short height was a disability, a sign that something might be wrong with my overall development.
It got to the point where my mum took me and my sisters (all three of us were below average height) across the country to get various tests done. I was excited I´d finally find out what was wrong with me because obviously being short means that's the case, right? The doctors gave us two options of what it could be. It was either genetic or I was just a late bloomer. I was 13 at the time of all of this. After multiple blood tests, an X-ray of my wrist (apparently that's how you can tell how much someone is still going to grow) and some eye tests (can't remember the exact purpose of those), and months of waiting, we finally got the results. "It's genetic. Both of your grandmothers are 152-156 cm so you will grow to about 158-162 cm at most." I remember thinking I could live with 162cm and praying I would reach that maximum. It wasn't the diagnosis I was hoping for but at least now I knew.
Except that based on my latest measuring, I am 172cm tall. Either the doctors were wrong or all the nights I cried myself to sleep praying to be tall someday changed my DNA. Funny, I know, but out of the three of us sisters, I'm the only one who surpassed the 162cm limit by quite a margin. Since most of my growth seems to have happened between the ages of 15-and 18 I feel like that split my friends into two groups. I switched schools just before turning 16, so everyone I went to school with for the first 10 years still remembers me as this teeny tiny short girl. Most people I've met since have no idea that being bullied for being short is part of my story. At this point, I think I'm taller than 98% of my girlfriends.
All I wanted growing up was to feel normal, seen for who I was, and not what I looked like. I didn't want to hear that I looked at least three years younger than I was and that someday it'll be a good thing. You know what? As much as I hate to admit it, they were right. I love telling people my age and seeing the shocked reactions. I only wish I could go talk to my younger self and tell her it will be okay. The bullying will end, and the hurtful comments will change to compliments about how young (instead of underdeveloped) I look.
Growing up I was shorter than my peers by quite a bit. One fact that I use to emphasize it when I tell the story to new friends - I was the shortest girl in my class up until I got to 10th grade. It took me becoming a 15-year-old to finally outgrow someone in my class. What was it like being the shortest one for so long? Not easy. It involved quite a bit of bullying, teasing, and feeling inferior because of my height. For context purposes - Lithuanians are very tall people.
I remember walking around school with my closest friends, who were significantly taller, all of us aged 11, and some first-grader commenting along the lines of "What is a third-grader doing with sixth-graders?!" That kind of comments hurt even if they came from clueless seven-year-olds. All the while everyone kept saying one day I'll be happy that people think I'm much younger than I actually am. Yet all I wanted was to be the same as my friends, to feel that I was worth more than all the comments about my appearance.
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| School trip around 2007-2008. Shortest girl with the tallest boy in the class |
I remember coming back to school after the summer holidays and teachers seemingly thinking "guess this wasn't a summer of growth for this one". It isn't just an assumption, by the way, they used to ask me when I was finally going to grow taller. Ouch. Let's not forget yearly measurements at the school nurse's office, where she'd blurt out something like "So short, but seem fully developed otherwise" and I suddenly felt that my short height was a disability, a sign that something might be wrong with my overall development.
It got to the point where my mum took me and my sisters (all three of us were below average height) across the country to get various tests done. I was excited I´d finally find out what was wrong with me because obviously being short means that's the case, right? The doctors gave us two options of what it could be. It was either genetic or I was just a late bloomer. I was 13 at the time of all of this. After multiple blood tests, an X-ray of my wrist (apparently that's how you can tell how much someone is still going to grow) and some eye tests (can't remember the exact purpose of those), and months of waiting, we finally got the results. "It's genetic. Both of your grandmothers are 152-156 cm so you will grow to about 158-162 cm at most." I remember thinking I could live with 162cm and praying I would reach that maximum. It wasn't the diagnosis I was hoping for but at least now I knew.
Except that based on my latest measuring, I am 172cm tall. Either the doctors were wrong or all the nights I cried myself to sleep praying to be tall someday changed my DNA. Funny, I know, but out of the three of us sisters, I'm the only one who surpassed the 162cm limit by quite a margin. Since most of my growth seems to have happened between the ages of 15-and 18 I feel like that split my friends into two groups. I switched schools just before turning 16, so everyone I went to school with for the first 10 years still remembers me as this teeny tiny short girl. Most people I've met since have no idea that being bullied for being short is part of my story. At this point, I think I'm taller than 98% of my girlfriends.
 |
| Family holiday 2017. My mum is 176cm and my dad is 178cm tall. |
All I wanted growing up was to feel normal, seen for who I was, and not what I looked like. I didn't want to hear that I looked at least three years younger than I was and that someday it'll be a good thing. You know what? As much as I hate to admit it, they were right. I love telling people my age and seeing the shocked reactions. I only wish I could go talk to my younger self and tell her it will be okay. The bullying will end, and the hurtful comments will change to compliments about how young (instead of underdeveloped) I look.
I will give thanks to You, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made;
Wonderful are Your works,
And my soul knows it very well.
Wonderful are Your works,
And my soul knows it very well.
Psalm 139:14
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