Height is a great advantage but when you’re twelve and taller than every boy in your class, it is a curse. It was the middle of 6th grade and I was already approaching 5’8, which left me to peer over boys’ shoulders at awkward middle school dances. Did I need to feel more self-conscious at that age? No, not really.
My height extended its reach beyond middle school and plagued me at my local dance studio. Apparently, I was too tall for any of my desired roles. I would voice my casting complaints to my teacher, Mrs. Gregory, who would purse her lips look at my gangly body and reply, “You’re too tall. Wouldn’t you like to be snow flake or a toy solider?”
“No, actually, I would prefer to be a toy doll, mouse, or even Clara?"
She would shake her head, “Molly, you’re too tall for them.”
And so every Nutcracker season, I would either find myself marching in polyester garb with a fake gun in my hand or dancing as a white snowflake. I hated both roles.
Ah! The doldrums of pre teen height. They were unbearable. I would later voice my frustrations to my best friend Anna, who had no sympathy, as she was shorter.
“Enjoy it. Be glad.” She would say sitting cross-legged like Siddhartha in her Mom’s garden shed.
Soon, we would mount our bikes and head downtown for Italian sodas and candy cigarettes while we plotted how to later take over her mom’s garden shed. We needed a clubhouse and I needed to shrink.
One day, her brother heard my complaints and suggested that I try coffee.
“Coffee will stunt your growth.” He said.
“Really? But I don’t like coffee…”
He looked at me “but you don’t like being tall either."
I saw his point and quickly resolved to start drinking coffee the next day. This took some time to adjust to, as I preferred milky tea or hot chocolate at the time. Coffee was bitter, black and uninviting. Plus, I was not allowed to drink it in the comfort of my home.
But fate was on my side as there was a coffee house conveniently located on my way to the downtown ballet studio.
Soon, Hyperion Espresso became my second home. Unaware and overwhelmed by all of the coffee choices, I eased into my addiction by sampling a different coffee each day - from the regular cup of Joe to the frothy lattes, foamy cappuccinos to the mochas with whip cream on top, I grew to know them all very well.
After much coffee consumption, eye twitching, and sleepless nights, I decided that the latte was for me. Again, fate was on my side as the coffee house owners, Steve and Dan, were fresh from Seattle and knew how to do coffee right.
My first latte set the standard and from 6th grade on, I became a coffee connoisseur and snob.
If I had the time, I would sip my oversized latte at Hyperion indulging in an almond croissant (please note: this is not the diet of most ballerinas), while I wondered if the local college boys thought, I, too was in college. This was very unlikely and soon my musing would turn to fear of being found out.
My Dad’s downtown office was one block up the street and the probability of seeing him or even one of my Mom’s chatty friends was very high.
But I could not bear to grow anymore. I continued with my grand plan and somehow managed to keep it a well-hidden secret during that initial year.
Soon, my coffee exploit morphed into addiction and I found myself craving coffee outside of Hyperion Espresso. Sometimes I would have an occasional headache and discovered tea could appease me....for a little while. Now, I desired and craved the black acid. It was my devil's cup and when no one was in the kitchen, I would slyly pour the remnants of the coffee pot into an inconspicuous milky mug.
Addiction aside, the real question was whether I was growing? I was unsure. I did notice that my knees no longer hurt but I still towered over the boys. With a coffee addiction underway, I assumed that something would spark and soon I would be an elegant 5’5. But I had my doubts and they were correct. I did not shrink nor am I sure if I truly stunted my growth as I grew another inch leaving me at 5’9.
Who knows maybe I would have been six feet tall? Doubtful. But if one thing is certain, it is my loyal addiction to coffee. From lattes to an ole cup of Joe, I need it regardless of my height. From my humble beginnings at Hyperion Espresso, I have learned to enjoy and savor it all.
Lordy, this took me right back. John is still giving terrible advice, by the way.
Posted by: Anna | 04/26/2011 at 10:45 AM
This brings back SUCH great memories. I totally remember your annual Nutcracker sorrow, and I also distinctly remember the visit when you switched from ordering a grinata (sp?) to a cappuccino at Hyperion. One of my many mental sighs, as I strained to keep you the adorable 6 year old in my mind as reality kept winning out!
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