The SHORT ORDER: String Cheese

It's been an emotionally weighty few days for me following a car crash that, in the blink of an eye and a momentary flick of unconsciousness, changed my life (it's as simple as that). Since then, I've needed the pinprick of solitude to burst whatever mindset I seem to have been living under for a while now. For the meager-minded decision--confidence accompanying it--to drive after having a lot to drink, all my preaching about being short yet having great stature, are for naught. This time, my mind truly fit my size. 

So I've been thinking. A lot. And in this self-imposed mourning for the life I could have lost, there are, fittingly enough, few comforts. But you need your breaks--and you can't allow yourself to whither into nothingness, either (even if your mind kind of considers it). 

String cheese has been my ever-reliable comfort food during these times. And it's not so much the pure, dairy taste or it's health-giving goodness as a snack that's what's so great about it. It's how you eat it: peeling each layer like you were peeling the layers of stupidity off of your head. Or like some kind of gummy catharsis you're dealing with. It's one stick, but even when you've got a lot on your mind, holding onto that last string and swallowing it--it leaves you satisfied. 

THE SHORT ORDER: The gyros at Cafe Med

There had to be a tribute to these suckers some time. When you're absolutely hungry and you can't make up your mind--a gyro just sounds like the right way to go. Pronounce it GEE-RO or JAI-RO or HEE-RO, whatever...it's the sort of food that's eaten passionately, your lips and teeth working in tandem to keep the wrap's contents together. 

The instant bite from raw onions, the crunch of cabbage, the tang of tomato, and the grilled promised land of meat--be it chicken, beef, tuna (okay, there's falafel, but that doesn't count)--your tongue treads upon; it's an all-encompassing meal literally rolled into one (at Cafe Med, you've even got the slimmer chance at health with a choice of whole wheat pita for an additional P 20). Pay less (P 100-120), eat right (the "Mediterranean" diet's probably better than insert-your-fad-diet-here diet), season to taste (the chili or garlic-mayo squeeze bottles are a plus), and fill yourself up. The gyro's a hero to me. 

(in picture: a whole wheat pita, chicken gyro from Cafe Mediterranean in The Podium, Ortigas) 

 

LITTLE MAN GREAT: Jamie Cullum

It's interesting to note that the best version of Radiohead's "High and Dry" came from a guy of low, well, stature. Only in height (5"6), that is, considering Jamie Cullum has elevated jazz considerably since he sprung up in pop music charts with his third album, Twentysomething (released in '03). And who says supermodels are too hard to reach for short guys? With Cullum tying the knot with Sophie Dahl next year, there are some small battles that can be won. 

Jamie Cullum (R) with model fiancee Sophie Dahl, who stands 5"11. 

Who's the Bigger Man Here?

I considered getting down from my car, kicking his door, and surrendering my face as punching bag--but I thought better of it. 

When an Innova driver with plate number ZBT323 (wow, I actually memorized his plates--anger DOES make you sharper) poked his head out of his car, shouted "Asshole! I'm parking here!" in his big-baby-tantrum voice, and slammed his car door promptly, I honestly felt kind of sorry for the guy. His balding head was throbbing, cheeks seemingly flailing, and his three Povedan daughters and the wife sitting shotgun seemed to slump in their seats at the embarrassing aggro-ferocity of their pater de familia. 

It was embarrassing for him because I wasn't even going to take this big baby's parking slot. The Eastwood Mall parking lot was abundant with parking spaces and it looked like the red Innova in front of me had passed the first vacant slot. He simply stopped at the turn past the vacant slot, no hazards to back up-no nothing. Even with my slight reversal as a mobile suggestion for him to back up and take the slot he had passed was for naught.  So I honked him so I could proceed and take one of the slots I saw by the entrance to the mall. 

Thus, Mr. Fury had his moment and dropped the "asshole" bit with his hapless daughters in the back seat. I protested with a lengthy honk, paused momentarily parallel to his car, and gave him the death stare as his bewildered family looked on.  There was a standoff in raised chins and gritted teeth, but I thought better of giving him a piece of my mind and a piece of my shin. A reverse reaction provokes more thought than a physical provocation--or even one of verbal hostility. Really, sputtering "asshole" at a stranger for something they shouldn't be an asshole for (believe me, I'll admit it when I fall under the category--and I have, proudly so) just makes one look like they need to visit a shrink. Or get laid. Or maybe find other means to pay for the education of three Povedan daughters (times are hard and school had just started, so I figure this must have been why his Innova's stick was up his ass.) 

A massive ego makes for a small brain. And the guy looked like he was gonna keel over from a heart attack. I drove on and went on to bigger, better things in my life.

  Sure, you can be small but terrible...but why not just be small and venerable? There's a whole lotta stupid out there, so it's best not to take part in it. 

The Petit Gourmand

I was never too sharp in mathematics and I struggled learning ratio and proportion in the 6th grade. Being the short--and not surprisingly, rather stocky--person that I am today, I wish I had listened a little better during those classes. 

You see, with the prime lesson of inequality you have to learn as a mini-man, there are certain ratios and proportions that follow. 

When you're young and you're obliged to finish the food on your plate 'cause, as your dad hammers into your head time and again, you're "a growing boy" (the more you eat, the more you grow, supposedly), that excuse to gorge expires when you reach the age of 21. Past that, the appetite you grew accustomed to being the "growing boy" that you were is transposed from Length to Width. The more you eat, the more you expand, obviously--and the probability of looking like Danny Devito becomes greater. 

Proportion. Re-learn it. U.S.-issued Steak & Eggs in a country where the average male height is 5"10 is definitely not as bloat-effective there as in a country where the average male height is about 5"6. That means even a "small" glass of root beer in the States is a little much to gulp for a guy like myself. 

This is a fitting intro for a new section in this site called THE SHORT ORDER. We aren't talking restaurant reviews here but meals that are both satisfying and scaled to fit proportionately smaller appetites. All of that will come, er, shortly. 

For now, though, I'd like to impart a little know-how I picked up on a food run today. Let's call it the KIDDIE CART DIET. 

Most supermarkets have those scaled down shopping carts; take one the next time you have to do the groceries. They'll fill up easily, it'll necessitate your focusing on quality food items, you'll bring home less grub. Simple, less spoilage, better for hand-to-mouth proportion. Being smaller, you'll need less, anyway. Now put down the frozen pizza, it'll take up space.  

The SHORT CUT: Bobon by Puey Quinones

Being 5"4, I may be a clothes horse at heart, but in build, am a clothes donkey. Getting items off the rack--especially dress shirts, trousers, jeans (outerwear is more outright discriminating since, through mirrors around the store, you can already see how physically inadequate you are)--is daunting, trepidation taking over as soon as you head to the fitting room. To put it simply, chances are slim to none that what you grabbed will fit.

So you take what you can. If you've long accepted your falling short of a few inches, you've probably taken into account a few rules in choosing pants (We'll take on the issue of tops some other time): 

THE BOTTOM LINE:

A. Shorts: Stick to why they're called such. For trunks, khaki shorts, whatnot, try not to get a pair that falls below your knees. Covering up an already existing lack of leg with a loose or long style won't help your height any. 

B. Pants: Slim, not skinny. You'll want to give an illusion of vertical prosperity. 

When purchasing, remember these basic points. The search for a good pair of jeans is tiresome (closest you'll come to the ends cupping your ankles would be a size 30 L), but coming close is half the battle. Then, you can CTRL + ALT on your swag by making a trip to your friendly neighborhood alterer.   

After recently acquiring some recession finds recently, I headed to Alterations Plus at The Podium. Pre-worked items: 

But there are better ALT-ernatives. This site's SHORT CUT section lauds all retail efforts out there to make life a little easier on the petite. 

    The frontage of Bobon at The Podium in Ortigas 

          An off-the-rack design I had altered. (About a week's wait for a sleek, perfect fit) 

There's BOBON by designer PUEY QUINONES, for example (located at Markati Palazzo, Level 4 of The Podium). Though Quinones' men's line is limited to a single rack at the store's frontage, all items are a notch above contempo-classy--hints of graphic fancy, with strips of floral lining, maybe--and may be subject to your own preference. Dictate the material, you may. And most importantly, off the rack can also be made to measure--for a teensy bit extra, of course. Shirts are priced from P 2,200-3,600. A blazer is P 7,000 (sometimes, sales can shed several thousand, making it P 4,000). A significant amount you pay, I know, but if textile tweaking is involved, then these threads are all worth it. 

Here's another variation--a little more snazzed up (check the detailing on this one) of the above design: 

LITTLE MAN GREAT: Gael Garcia Bernal

Bernal once said: "I'm an actor. I don't need to abide by ethnicity." He also never had to abide by Hollywood's height requirements. The Mexican actor (Y Tu Mama Tambien, The Motorcycle Diaries) has proven to be a visual jalapeno, getting girls and gays all hot and bothered while standing only 5"6. 

 

Bernal (R) with Diego Luna, his actor amigo and co-star in the mucho cinematic masterpiece, Y Tu Mama Tambien.  

Just a LITTLE respect

Some reach the height of insecurity. 

Defeated, as soon as they first struggle to maneuver the shopping cart at Costco. Or line up at some club anywhere in big-city U.S.A, surveying the rollout of good genes enhanced by slim jeans and slimmer stilettos. 

Inferior, 'cause they're among adults who fall under the standard-size (5"6/5"7 'n' up) category of "full-grown". Doesn't matter that they're 21 

or above. Or that their IQ is 1200 and above. If you're literally looked down upon at first sight, you're already tagged a small/little/short person and maybe half the man/woman one is supposed to be. 

Briefly, you consider that operation in China. Clock out of your normal day-to-day for almost a year and stay in bed, later stumbling from it. From the immense pain and the immeasurable frustration of having to learn to walk again.  

But all of that's a BIG load of crap. 

THE SHORTENING isn't about looking up, obligingly, to "tall" people or up to the skies for a miracle. Sure, I've let a lot of sighs out as I stared at the photo-captured incline from the top of my head to those of others. I've had my teen share of trying to measure up, downing all the "Growth Factor" pills I could. I've done the jumping jacks on the first seconds of the year, the yoga, and the prayer. But then you gain a sense of the world's bigness--you open your mind a little more and realize that the real growth factor is all about you owning up to who you are.  

 

So through this here unraveling account of a small dude trying to live as largely as he can, maybe you, reader, can raise the bar yourself. Stature is all about knowing what FITS, TASTES, and LOOKS best on you. It's high time the short sought the best places to achieve that. Shouldn't be too much of a tall order on anyone's part.