Being Small – Invisible

Sometimes when you’re small it really means you’re invisible. Or unnoticed. Sometimes that’s good. Sometimes that’s bad.

My best friend growing up was large. He was large physically and larger than life in personality as well. I don’t know if it was by accident or fate that led the smallest and largest school kids to pair up. His large stature made me look even smaller and made him look even larger. People always noticed that. As we got older his larger than life personality kept growing, I was a moon around a large planet and the planet kept growing. His gravity gobbled up all the attention. I found it a double-edged sword. Being small I was intimidated and frightened by social gatherings, easily overwhelmed by it all. But my friend was a shield from the onslaught of social energy and attention. He ate it up. He was the sun I was the shadow.

In social situations he was greeted. I was acknowledged (sometimes). I didn’t mind. Kept the social pressure off.  I could just observe, just be. But just being for the most part meant not being noticed, which every once in a while, was a heavier weight than the lightness of being left alone.

When I wasn’t with him and walked into a room, I was noticed but only noticed in as much as they wanted to know where he was. Sometimes that made me wonder, that while I liked being small, did that also mean I was insignificant? Were they the same thing? But as my self-awareness and self-esteem grew, I cast away those doubts but chose to remain invisible.

And strangely enough sometimes I wonder if I am small enough. This wonder usually happens right after someone has shown some attention to me, whether in a positive or even frivolous manner. While I know that being appreciated is healthy, I’d rather not be noticed at all.

Some people like to dress to get attention. Some people like to dress fashionably for their own enjoyment, though that often garners attention just as often. So, if you’re small and wish to be smaller, you dress not to be noticed, or as people like to point out to me, I have no style. This has been pointed out often enough. Inside I am thinking, well yeah, that’s not a mistake, that’s not a failed effort to be stylish. It’s a successful effort to blend in, to not be noticed. I have a few times attempted to dress stylishly. I am guessing no one noticed the subtle attempt and the awkwardness of it all cured me of that desire.

I have worried at times I may have called attention to myself by wearing something that would gather notice. One week at work I wore a blue shirt every day to work (not the same blue shirt). The shirts weren’t in any way exciting, but they were all blue. I was worried someone might notice. I mentioned it to a co-worker and she said flatly “No one notices what you wear.” And so, I was greatly relieved to know my powers of invisibility had not been compromised or diminished.

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