October 4, 2025

When I think about telling my family the joyful, exciting, funny, romantic, disappointing, disturbing, and downright unbelievable stories from my 64 years of living, I feel like I’m opening a vault that’s been sealed since the Nixon administration. Inside are treasures, tears, a few ex-boyfriends I’d rather not claim, and at least one hairstyle that should’ve been a crime in three states.

Every story is a little piece of me that’s been locked away — partly for emotional reasons and partly because, honestly, no one would’ve believed half of them until now.

I’ve lived in more places than a traveling circus. Military bases, old trailers, apartments with charm, and houses that made me pray the floor wouldn’t collapse during dinner. One house had holes so big in the floor, you could drop your fork and feed the wildlife below. I’ve lived with rats, roaches, and the occasional snake. And no, not all of them were boyfriends.

I’ve also lived in homes so beautiful I thought I’d accidentally broken into the wrong house. From the “oh-my-God-what’s-that-smell” kind of neighborhoods to the ones where the biggest problem was deciding which wine glass to use — I’ve done it all. Every stop on that wild ride added another layer to who I am — equal parts chaos, comedy, and character development.

By the time I finished moving around, I’d attended 12 different schools. That’s right, twelve. I was basically a professional new kid. I learned early how to make friends fast — smile, crack a joke, and hide your lunch until you figure out who’s trustworthy. I could blend into a new classroom faster than a chameleon at a Skittles factory.

Now I’ve got friends everywhere — all over the world. In today’s world, everyone is just a keyboard stroke away. I could send a message to Australia right now and get a “G’day!” before my coffee gets cold. When I was growing up, long-distance was expensive. Now it’s free — which is great, because my friends are scattered across every time zone known to man.

Being short has been my lifelong destiny. I was always that person in the group photo who everyone assumed was someone’s kid. I’ve spent my life asking tall people for help — “Can you reach that for me?” might as well be my catchphrase.

But don’t think I let height slow me down — oh no. I had a secret weapon: stilettos. Six-inch heels and a good attitude. I dated tall men, short men, and average ones. I’ve always preferred the ones who didn’t mind looking slightly shorter standing next to me in my skyscraper shoes. We know this is a lie. I am always the shortest. These days, I can’t wear anything but flats. My feet went on strike. They said, “Lady, we carried you through disco and heartbreak, and now we’re done.”

One thing I definitely inherited from my mom was her sixth sense. I can read people like a book — sometimes a comic book, sometimes a horror story. I can tell when someone’s lying, flirting, hiding something, or about to say something stupid. It’s like a superpower… but one that makes social events exhausting.

And oh boy, I’m a crier. I cry at commercials, movies, songs, and sometimes just the sight of puppies. I don’t do “a single tear running down my cheek” — I do the full ugly cry, with hiccups and tissues everywhere. Remember the movie Up? I cried through the entire movie. Then I cried all the way home. I’m not kidding — the next morning I looked like I’d gone 10 rounds with a makeup remover. My granddaughters aren’t even allowed to watch it. I tell them, “No, honey, that movie lives in the ‘Grandma’s Emotional Danger Zone.’”

There have been plenty of times I’ve struggled to understand people — like why anyone voluntarily jumps out of planes, or eats kale, or marries someone they met on the internet after three messages. The world is full of mysteries, and I’m just over here trying to make sense of it with a cup of coffee and a sense of humor.

I’ve had regrets, sure — who hasn’t? But I wouldn’t change a thing. Every bad haircut, every sketchy apartment, every wild move, every tear-stained pillow — they all made me who I am. A short, sentimental, slightly sarcastic woman with a sense of humor strong enough to survive anything.

If my life were a movie, it would be part comedy, part drama, part “Wait, did that actually happen?” and fully unscripted. I’d be played by someone five inches taller — because Hollywood can’t handle my actual height — but the story would be the same: one woman, a million memories, and a lifetime of finding laughter in the mess.

So buckle up, because I’ve got stories — the kind you tell at reunions that make everyone laugh so hard they cry, then cry so hard they laugh. Sixty-four years of love, chaos, disasters, miracles, heartbreaks, high heels, and low points — and through it all, one unstoppable little woman with big dreams and good mascara. I do not wear mascara too much any more because I can not see very good to put it on mu eye lash. It 9 times out of 10 ends up on my face or in my eye.

#blogboost