Just happy I’m an average guy

Jason Offutt

I’m not particularly tall, nor am I particularly short.

I’m 5’9.5”, which is precisely the average height of an American male.

(The average height of a Bolivian male is 5’3”, which makes me feel better about myself.)

Because my height is as normal as a vat of ranch dressing on a Midwest salad bar, I’ve never considered what problems tall people run into on a daily basis, other than they get more chicks.

Or short people, other than most chests are at eye level, which really has its advantages. (Go Bolivians traveling abroad.)

I’m also right handed, much like 90 percent of the population, so I’ve never experienced the problems of being a leftie (outcast) in a modern world.

Problems like knocking elbows with a right handed person at lunch, holding a glass measuring cup only to find the metric measurements are on my side. (Are all Canadians left handed?)

Or worse, having to think about how I’m going to give other drivers the finger because my dominant hand is on the wheel and it’s the one closest to the window.

A study led by researcher Jadon Webb at Yale has discovered that people with psychological disorders such as schizophrenia are more likely to be left handed. I think this has less to do with troubles in the brain and more to do with the frustration of getting ink all over the side of your writing hand while doing the Sunday Times crossword puzzle.

It certainly would drive me crazy.

Have I noticed these problems in my every day life?

No. Why would I?

In a nice gesture by corporate America and nature working as one for my personal wellbeing, most everything in the country has been designed to fit me.

Thanks, guys.

But wait, I’m not finished being average.

I’m a brunette with brown eyes, both the most common in the county.

Does it bother me that I’m a blue-sky piece in the great American jigsaw puzzle?

No. It’s just made me wonder about problems in the world I don’t notice because they don’t occur to me. (And by “world,” I mean the world around me; not the world abroad. I’m American and don’t think about anything outside my country’s borders unless it has something to do with sports).

Problems like:

• Short people viewing upper shelves like they’re the snowcap of Kilimanjaro.

• Tall people judging everyone around them by their bald spots.

• Brunettes automatically assuming blonds are vacuous caricatures, no matter what color crayon they use to sign their name.

• Brunettes automatically assuming redheads were beaten by stepparents.

• Large people simply not fitting into things.*

• Everyone assuming tall people are good at sports.

• Weird sweat. That’s it. Weird sweat.

OK. I’m more than happy being average, although there’s one place on earth I won’t be considered average. I’ll be above average.

I think I’ll to move to Bolivia and play professional basketball.

*A friend in college became a body builder, and before he graduated, he had to sell his Mazda 280z (this was a cool car once. Once) because he grew too big to fit into the drivers seat.

Really? How do you grow out of a car?

Jason Offutt’s novel, “A Funeral Story,” is available at amazon.com.