Weebles Wobble

But they don’t fall down

If you are from a certain time and place, you might have played with the children’s toys the Weebles, which had one of the most memorable advertising lines for any product ever. [Note: In writing this piece, I discovered that the US and UK Weebles look different and had different ad campaigns.] I have no recollection of the ads for Barbie or Care Bears or Strawberry Shortcake or Little People—other massive toy lines in the same era. But the tag line for the Weebles is inscribed in my memory more indelibly than an Etch-a-Sketch:

Of all the toys from my childhood, these days I identify most with those Weebles. You might think it’s because I am increasingly able to wobble about without falling down. That is part of the reason. And I do sometimes sing the theme song to myself when I’m doing my BOSU balance work. For the other reason, I’ll need to start with a story.

Tall Girl Club

As I’ve described before, I was born with a right side that was larger and growing faster than my left. This had some inconveniences, but that longer right leg also meant that I was tall for my age—taller than almost everyone else in my school class.

Except in first grade. That year Mia went to my school. I didn’t like Mia. Mia always finished her seat work first. Mia always got A+ grades. Mia was tan and gorgeous and wore short skirts and all the boys loved her. Brian, who would chase the girls during recess, would always chase Mia first before settling for easier targets. He declared that Mia was his second-best girlfriend, after Daisy Duke. [I never ranked higher than Brian’s fourth-best girlfriend. Six-year-old me needed to learn that it’s not worth being chased by a boy who isn’t going to rank you first.] And Mia was never mean or snooty, that I can recall. Alas, I was the petty, jealous, competitive one. And to top it all off, Mia was taller!

A school program from first grade. Mia is the tall, tan gorgeous one in the short skirt on the right. I’m on the left.

Mia went to a different school in second grade, and I was able to resume being tall and getting seat work done first, even if I didn’t rise any higher in Brian’s girlfriend rankings.

I continued to be tall for years. I did things tall people do, such as play basketball. My sister is also tall, and I imagined us as Tall Girl photo negatives: me, pale and blonde; her, dark and brunette. My best friend was 4’10”, with Greek heritage, and her parents were both under 5’4”. When I was with them, I felt like some tall blonde Amazon with the magical superpower of one really long arm. I knew that my height wasn’t actually noteworthy—not like my friend Camille, who is a glorious 6’4”. But if the dichotomy was tall versus short, I would be on the tall side.

Or so I thought, until one day at university. Friends were hanging out in someone’s dorm room, chatting, when someone said: “We should have a Tall Girl’s Club! We have so many Tall Girls in our friend group! It could include Jane, and Monica, and Katrina, and Amy …” I waited to hear them say, “… and Heather.”

But no one said, “and Heather.” And that day, I realized: I am not actually tall. All those girls were at least four inches taller than me, if not more. This part of my perception of my own body and its shape and its size in the world had not been accurate for many years. I felt irrationally deflated and very short and stumpy as I trudged back to my own dorm room. I was Heather-the-Not-Tall girl.

Many of us will have some moment of disconnect between our own subjective perception of our body and some external evidence about our body in the world. Of course, there is nothing inherently less good about being not-tall. Some of my favorite people are not tall! I am making no claims about whether being tall or not-tall is preferable aesthetically or functionally. I am noting that it is strange to realize that your own experience of your physical self has suddenly changed. My actual height didn’t change by a millimeter the day that Tall Girls Club was born. My perception of my height changed dramatically.

What does this story have to do with Weebles? Let’s go to an April day in 2021 when I reached for the kitchen tap to turn on the water, heard a cracking noise, felt a jolt of pain, and said to Dave, “Something just happened that is really wrong.” My vertebra had collapsed, taking with it almost two inches of height. My already-short torso has so little space now that my ribs are nestled down by my hip bones. My actual height has changed in rather dramatic fashion.

And I look like a Weeble.

Granted, there are a few differences. I’m not made of plastic and I do have arms and legs, which Weebles do not possess. But my perception of my physical self—my shape and size and the way I take up space in the world—reminds me of a Weeble. This has been an adjustment both physically (when you lose two inches of torso, your clothes all seem to fit weirdly) and psychologically (I am unequivocally, definitely not-tall now).

This is not a plea for compliments. Whether we think we look like Weebles, Barbies, or Cabbage Patch Kids, we all deserve to appreciate and affirm the body we have. I don’t want to repeat the mistakes of six-year-old me and waste energy on petty comparisons with a person who seems smarter or prettier or taller or deemed more appealing by some guy named Brian. I’m learning to appreciate my Weebles vibe.

After all, Weebles wobble but they don’t fall down. I can live with that.

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Treatment Update

Big week ahead! I have my next scan on Sunday, Jan. 30. I’ve been too distracted with rehab and other treatment issues to have much “scanxiety” for this round. The good news is that Dr Eeyore gave me some helpful perspective on radiology interpretation of scans. The bad news is that now that Dr Eeyore has officially retired, no one knows (or has told me) who will get the results of my scan and share that with me.

I also have blood work this week to see how that white blood count is doing. If the neutrophils are hanging in there, I’ll be able to continue that treatment at the end of the week.

Prayer requests:

• A good scan with encouraging news

• A doctor available soon to share that news with me

• Neutrophils that are high enough to continue treatment

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Joy Through Art

My friend Gillian Gamble is an incredible award-winning illustrator and remarkable person. She gave me permission to share this piece she did recently, inspired by the style of Matisse. I hope it inspires you, as it does me, to take your body for a walk or leap or dance or wobble of joy.