Can You Reach This Please?

“They got little baby legs And they stand so low You got to pick ’em up Just to say hello…” Randy Newman song Short People

There seems to be a problem in grocery and big-box stores and I’m not talking about the fact that a cantaloupe is more expensive than a Ferrari.

In a world where people are obsessed with inclusion and every other feeling known to humans and nonhumans, it seems rather impossible that a certain portion of the population is overlooked. They are under helped and as unseen as a woman over fifty in Los Angeles. I’m talking of course about the enormous amount of vertically challenged people.

Yes, those who are short and getting shorter every year. The ones who have a problem with height issues that preclude them from reaching shelves in grocery and big box stores.

The short and constantly reaching can’t access food or merchandise they seek without waiting for a tall person to walk down their aisle. Even finding a sales or stock person to help you is a feat of gigantic proportion today.

Why does the food that I always want have to be on a shelf only the Jolly Green Giant could reach?

Would it be so awful to put the organic cream cheese on a lower shelf? Try reaching for a bottle on a shelf so high it makes Mars seem close.

Oddly, many of these foods are not inconsequential. Some I have found difficult to obtain have been necessary products. The other day, I searched in vain for a container of whipping cream and it was on a top shelf. Cream, honestly? And the dairy shelves are not easy to manuever. They are slanted and covered so you can’t really get close enough to stretch and reach. Could the stores make it any harder for us short people to shop?

Walking around Costco I always think of Chicken Little’s warning, the sky is falling…

In Costco you are in fear of sofas, rugs, canned goods and caramel corn falling from those top shelves. Those boxes loom large overhead. Carefully you stroll through the aisles hoping to be able to get out of there without mortgaging your house to pay. But that’s another blog.

What can a short person do when shopping to reach those items so far out of reach?

It’s almost embarrassing having to stand around waiting for a tall person to get down a brick of gouda.

Should we carry a step stool in our tote? Or perhaps the grocery stores could occasionally shift the order of how high the food is. Like putting things nobody eats on the top shelves. That might be a novel idea. Try spelt, whatever that is.

Getting older is fraught with issues no one wants to admit or deal with. We walk into rooms and forget why. Suddenly foods turn against us that have been friends our entire lives. Our metabolism retires and moves to Boca Raton while we are still craving a piece of carrot cake. We need to keep turning the heat up in the house because it’s so damn cold.

And to have to be reminded every time one goes shopping that we are shrinking even more, well that’s just cruel.

Maybe someone could invent a pair of shoes that has a button on the side, It cranks up a ladder on your soles that adds five inches to your height. Or maybe special shopping lifts you insert when you need them. Like MGM used to do with Paul Newman and all the leading men who were five five or shorter.

Many short women wear platform shoes or high heels and this helps a bit. I wouldn’t know since my feet banned me from wearing any heels or platforms in 1999.

It’s also very obvious the candy, baked goods, chips and junk food is located on only the middle and lowest shelves. Easy to see, easy to grab.

I find it particularly annoying that some of the things I need, like spices, are on shelves too high to read the small print on these products.

Hello, do I also need a telescope to shop now?

I know everyone who is normal or tall height out there is saying, “I have no idea what she’s talking about. It all seems pretty reachable to me.”

You’re wondering why I make an issue about such a minor thing as reaching groceries on high shelves.

It’s not a gigantic deal. But to someone who is shrinking yearly and was short to begin with, it’s another reminder that time is doing weird stuff to my body. I’m not happy about this state of events. I didn’t vote on this whole ouch-this-hurts-thing. Waking up in the morning is a bigger adventure than Indiana Jones when you find out there’s another mystery pain somewhere.

Yes, yes, I’m very lucky to be getting older and complaining about it isn’t going to change anything. But the whole shorter shelf thing has nothing to do with old. It’s a problem many stores face, but take no time to remedy. I’m sure many young vertically challenged people agree.

I’m sure if they organized the merchandise so there is more variety on the lower shelves it would help. Do you really need fifteen bags of miniature Milky Ways on the same shelf at all times?

I probably have too much time on my hands. I’m finding silly things like waiting for tall people in grocery stores to reach my merch to write about.

Just another tall person perk. They reach stuff, eat stuff and don’t gain weight. At least tall people fat has somewhere to go and spread out. I admit I have height envy, is there a group for that?

Hello, my name is Norma Zager and I’m short. You can’t see me? Well get me a chair to stand on for heaven’s sake.

Okay, so there is an upside to this tirade. I admit reaching a few less food items would probably be a good thing anyway.

Just trying to see the sunny side of life here. I’d drink some orange juice for my vitamin C and extra sunshine, but I couldn’t reach it…

My Metabolism Retired to Boca Raton

I received a text the other day from my metabolism. It retired to Boca Raton in 2011 and has been playing canasta and doing Zumba ever since. Break ups are never easy and this one was definitely tough.

Occasionally I will run into a friend who saw my metabolism at a Chili’s Restaurant when vacationing there and report that it looks wonderful. Rested and suntan and living its best life.

Why not? It should look amazing! My metabolism hasn’t worked a day for over seventy years.

It decided to go off the clock when I was ten and hasn’t done an hour’s work ever since.

I remember many times when I would exercise to give it a boost and I heard snoring inside me. I walked miles on the treadmill, sweating and panting to lose even an ounce and the lazy bugger slept.

Oh, so too busy to be bothered with doing your job huh? And I ran harder, my face red and filled with agony as my metabolism just snoozed and acted like it didn’t have a care in the world.

As you can imagine it was quite a hostile relationship. Believe me I tried, but it was obvious we were totally incompatible.

Yes, I admit it. We didn’t get along. We fought more than a married couple who hatred one another, but stayed together just to torture their mate.

The battles were constant. No matter how little I ate, it would all go straight to the fat cells.

It didn’t pass go, collect 200 calories or ever have a face to face with what should have been the guard at the pudgy portal.

My metabolism lazed like a sleeping security man as someone robbed the jewelry store.

In fact, I’m not sure it wasn’t inviting more calories in to join the party.

“Hey chocolate chip cookie here’s a place for you in her midriff. Come on guys let’s do an all- butterscotch bash in her boobs. PARTY ON!

So many of my friends refused to show up when I threw a don’t-let-the-door-hit-you-in-the-ass gala for my absent metabolism. They too were disgusted by the way it had treated me all those years.

I was like a wife divorcing a husband who had beaten her every day and kept the boxing gloves as a memento of their time together.

Growing up I do remember my metabolism complained a great deal. “What the hell is this new diet pill? I told you I hate Metrecal!”

Sunday nights when I was a kid and my family went out for Chinese food, it always grumbled I wasn’t eating enough. “Hey scarf down that extra egg foo young so I won’t be hungry in an hour.”

Few times do I remember my metabolism actually happy. It did seem pretty overjoyed though when I ate hot fudge cream puffs at Sanders, a favorite Detroit confectionary store. Then it was a happy camper. It knew that none of those thousands of calories I was ingesting would disturb its sleep.

It absolutely jumped for joy when the Good Humor truck came ringing its bell down our street. My metabolism was very partial to ice cream sandwiches and why not? It got all the fun and no work.

Meanwhile it never cared that I was the one constantly busting out of my clothes and gaining more weight than a politician’s bag full of lies.

So I’m guessing Boca is the perfect place for my metabolism to retreat. Still, retire from what I have no idea. Why would it even need to lay back when it never worked anyway?

When it told me it was moving to Boca of course my first question was why, when it had never done anything to retire from? I was shocked at the anger that blew back in my face.

“Seriously, I’m really sick and tired of hearing you bitch about me. I have ears and I hear the way you talk about me to your friends, your family, anyone on earth who will listen to you complain.

“I have feelings you know. No one likes to hear that they are a lazy good for nothing every single day non-stop.

“Wah, wah, wah, I can’t eat a crumb without gaining weight. Boo hoo, my pants don’t zip. Well. Cry me a river, Bitch. I’ve had it. How in the world could any metabolism keep up with your chocolate cravings? Your need for pizza or excuse me, it’s obvious you never learned that a pint of Hagen Das is not one serving.

“I tried to make this work. I attended meetings for abused metabolisms and we all decided finally to get out and enjoy ourselves in Boca.

“The food is good the weather is great and you can always find a card game. I had no intention of spending the rest of my life listening to you blabber about your weight gains, your tight clothes and your inability to eat thousands of calories with no consequences.

“Let me bring out my violin and you can sing your sad song as you jump on the scale for the fiftieth time today.

“But I won’t have to hear it, cause I’ll be in Boca living the life.

“You enjoy your calorie laden treats and licking out the center of those Oreos, but I’m taking a pass.”

I was speechless. Okay, only for a minute and I shot back. “Well go on. Be lazy run away from your responsibilities. I should have known you’d cop out and leave me high and dry!”

“See ya, tubby,” it said as it walked out the door, suitcase in hand and smiling like a lobbyist passing out graft.

I just sat down in shock pondering how I’d survive without a metabolism when it struck me.

How much did it weigh? Could I have lost a few now that it was gone?

I ran to the scale and jumped on. Down two pounds.

Good riddance I thought as I walked into the kitchen to celebrate with a slice of leftover pizza.

I feel lighter already I whispered to no one in particular. Hmmm, how much does an appendix weigh?