I could have been a supermodel.

I’ve been mulling over whether or not I should share a particular story.  My hesitation lies in the fact that I doubt my ability to accurately portray my heart and soul.  I could come across as very, very arrogant.  Certainly not a trait I want for myself.  Maybe I’m arrogant sometimes.  But this time I was just being a square piece.  You might need a refresher on what that means so that you don’t judge me too critically by the end of this post.  Refresh.

Oh, I’ll stop hemming and hawing and just get to it.

So, you know how literal I am, right?  I mean LITERAL.  For instance, when people tell jokes, long after the punch line has ended, I’m still trying to figure out the logistics of how – say –  the pope, the president and John Wayne could all truly be stranded in a desert when a genie comes to grant one wish.

Serious stuff.

My brain is constantly processing information in the most factual way with a rigid adherence to pure vocabulary and my basic understanding of the purpose of life.  In NO way is it second nature for me to be lighthearted and breezy.  That’s more like fifth or sixth nature.  A real stretch.  (Don’t forget my thinking face.)  It’s been a great blessing this year to – if nothing else – reflect on my serious quirks and poke fun at myself on Square Piece.  While I generally walk through life wound a little tight, eventually I get some perspective and lighten up enough to appreciate hindsight.

Except last week at the gym, hindsight hit me the minute I heard myself.

Do you ever say something and immediately think, “Oh, no.  That came out wrong”?

Welllllll…

Marcus, my trainer, led me over to an ab machine for a round of exercises.  Near the machine was a guy who regularly works out around the same time that I do.  I try not to notice him; but one time he told me that I looked like I belonged in a Bally’s commercial.  Awkward contact was made.  Now we have to nod and smile.

Except this time he did more than smile.

Weird stranger at the gym hollered, “Heyyyyyy, supermodel!”

And do you know how I responded?  DO YOU KNOW?

Me, “No.  I’m not tall enough for that.”

AHHH!

Not tall enough?  I’m sure that there are a string of qualities needed in addition to height in order to be a supermodel.  BUT that’s not the point.  The point is that any humble human being would have said something like, “Me?” or, “Awww, no…” or, “Don’t be silly,” or, “That’s so kind.”  Because, quite frankly, most women don’t think they’re beautiful enough to be supermodels (even if they are).  But me?  Well, from the sound of it, I’ve already mentally checked hotness off my list, but fell short in the height department (no pun intended).

But I swear that’s not how I meant it.  I’m just literal.  And literally, you have to be at least 5’9″ to be a supermodel.  And I’m usually 5’7″ (because I’m usually wearing shoes).

But I know how it sounded.

I heard myself and mentally flicked myself in the head.  In my mind, on repeat, it sounded like, “Supermodel?  Yeah.  I hear ya.  If those modeling agencies would just drop the height requirement, this face could make millions.  But I’m not tall enough.”

Now, please don’t send me all sorts of comments telling me how beautiful I am and that I could be a model.  Blah blah blah.  I really don’t need all that going to my head.  Just please laugh with me.  And please, the next time you hear someone say something really, realllllly arrogant, ask yourself, “Might they be a literal square piece, too?”