I didn’t realize until I was in my 30s that I have abnormally short legs. I am 5’7 and wear petite length pants. My husband has the same build–he is 5’9 and a 29 inch inseam is a bit too long. If we had children, they would have to work as circus freaks.
It wasn’t until age 22 or 23 that I realized that I’m a pessimist who’s always obsessing over things that might go wrong, even when the probability of those things was quite low. I suddenly saw that all the bad possibilities that I prepared for never actually came to pass.
My whole family has blue eyes, and I never thought much about it. A few months ago (I guess I was 24 at the time) I looked in a mirror, and I suppose the combination of lighting at that moment, and the clothes I was wearing just made my eyes stand out. I was startled to see how BLUE they were… not greyish, but really bright BLUE. I commented about it to my husband, and he said something like “Duh! That’s one of the first things I noticed about you!”
Somehow, I still have to work at it to see them as that colour again, but at least part of me knows they aren’t as greyish-washed out/not noticeable that I’d assumed they were ( I’m somewhat of a wallflower, so I just assumed there was nothing striking about myself).
Are you my long lost twin or something?
The only reason I didn’t include that is because I realized it a long, long time before 22 or 23. I’m starting to come around though, largely thanks to my Type B, older, more experienced spouse.
I always used to think I was a wooooooo crazy out there abstract-style thinker, just because it seemed to fit with my personality. Recently, though, I’ve realized that I am an extremely. linear. thinker. I need to do everything one at a time, according to highly specific guidelines,within a very structured framework, even though this way of thinking seems diametrically opposed to many of my interests and skills. It’s only been maybe a year or two, but knowing this about my mental style-- or handicap or what have you-- has actually helped me significantly already.
I have always thought I was fat. Really fat. And ugly, with a big nose, small boobs. I wanted to get a nose job, boob job and used to have an eating disorder (never realized that i was always cold and headachy due to no food).
I started eating again, but was still unhappy with my looks.
Fairly recently I determined that although I am not in the shape I want to be, I am not fat.
Or ugly with a big nose.
And my sister is constantly making cracks about my “larger” boobs.
I am actually what a lot of people would say is pretty attractive.
I have decided this year to get in really good shape and compete in a swimsuit modelling competition next summer.
How’s that for a turnaround in attitude?
I also have very long fingers and toes. I can palm a basketball with my hand and pinch people with my feet.
I used to have the teeth dream, too, but for me, I think it was connected to a feeling of powerless and incompetence. Which was another realization I had a few years ago: that I don’t actually suck at everything, and that 25 (or so) was way to young to consider myself a total failure. Once I started to get some self-confidence, I stopped having those dreams.
That particular book was called The Highly Sensitive Person by Elaine Aron. It comes up first on Google, and there’s a little test you can take online.
I was almost 30 before I realized just how big a guy I am. I’m 6’-2", and my weight fluctuates between 230 pounds (no gut) and 250 (too much beer, not enough exercise). I’ve been this size since I was 16.
But my dad and younger brother are both bigger than I am, and my mom is 5-10. I grew up playing football and working manual labor jobs, so I was always around other guys who were pretty big (muscular, if not all that tall) themselves. A few years ago, though, I found myself traveling alone in South America. For a month, I was a full head taller and twice as broad as anyone else around me. I stood out like a sore thumb during that trip, and I felt like a giant. I was pretty self-conscious for most of the time I was there.
And I continued to be a little self-conscious when I got home. People are bigger in the US than they are in South America, but most of them are still a lot smaller than I am. I had no idea!
I just realized this year how totally and annoyingly passive-agressive I have become over the child-raising years, in particular to my two sons (who are 15 & 18). I’ll state my preference when asked a direct question but then inevitably temper my response with, “…but whatever you want is fine, really”, when of course it ISN’T. I’ll patiently clean up a mess one of them made, without giving them the chance to do it, or even asking them to do it, and rant under my breath (but not quite too softly to be heard, of course) about how wonderful their “free maid service” must be for them, the whole while. After this was pointed out to me, I find I must really concentrate on my language & behavior in certain situations to avoid making such obviously P-A statements chronically. I just hate it that I’ve allowed myself to become such a martyr!
Is there any way to NOT become your own mother as you grow up? Please please?
–Beck
I’m not as short as I thought I was. I lived most of my life in the Pacific Northwest where people are bred on milk, beef, and sunshine and they are TALL. Then I moved to NYC, and even at 5’4", stood taller than most people on the subway.
I am not fat, or even chubby. I have an hourglass figure and I assumed that since my waist didn’t turn curvelessly into my hips, I had a weight problem.
I am a geek. And I’ve always been a geek. And no amount of posturing will make me a “cool kid.” And cool kids are boring anyway.
Yes! I was in my 30s before I realized that my waist is located just a bit south of where I always thought it was. I never looked as sharp in my Army uniforms as the other guys did, but never knew why. I really like to dress well, and am a bit of a clothes horse, but it wasn’t until my mid-30s that I realized why I didn’t look as good in the clothes I bought as the mannequins did. And living in small-town mid-America, it’s a pain trying to find shirts that fit. There’s also the problem that my waist contains a lot of unnecessary blubber, but I’m happy to brag that that problem is slowly going away.
Oh, I also realized about ten years ago that, like my father, I can be a real asshole to people who simply do not deserve it. I have three younger brothers, and we were all together at our parent’s house one summer night about a decade ago, and halfway through the bottle of gin we all had the same epiphany. Dad, of course, had to correct us – we’re not assholes, he said, we’re naturally arrogant. It comes from our heritage and upbringing (gosh, Dad, you raised us to be assholes?) Anyway, my brothers and I are working on trying to be less … um … arrogant.
This is supposed to be a very common dream, right up there with being naked in public and finding out that you have a final today. I know I’ve had them.
Until I was about 40 I didn’t realize that I was always trying to be “the good girl”; as in telling people what I thought they wanted to hear, rather than what I really felt. It takes a conscious effort for me to, say, ask for what I want, rather than just accepting whatever is given (the worst anyone can say is no, right? Not a fate worse than death).
I realized last week that my pinkie toes are turned a little more than 45 degrees outward. They point straight ahead, but my toenails don’t face up, but to the outside.
It wasn’t finding out that the teeth dream was common that was a surprise. It was finding out the toilet dream was common, too. Apparently lots of people dream of bathrooms they can’t get out of, toilets that don’t work, and no privacy barriers.
It wasn’t until these past few months that I realized that I have a horrible memory, except when it comes to words, names and simple sequences of numbers. Then I surprise everyone.
That not everybody associates colors with sounds. I thought everybody did. Turns out it’s just me. Well, not just me, but not all that common either.
Or is that somethign I realized about everybody else? I laways knew I did it; I had no idea it was a Condition, lol.
Wow. You’re like my anti-twin. It wasn’t until I’d been out of college for almost a decade that I realized how poorly I remember names and numbers. Fortunately, it’s not remarkable that an engineer wouldn’t remember people’s names, but not remembering numbers is a bit of a bother…
Mine are the same way, but I’ve always noticed it. New to me is that my eyes are green. I’d always thought they were brown. Nope. Dark, bottle green, with a ring of golden brown around the iris. When I first noticed this, I figured it was a function of age, that the melanin in my eyes was diminishing, but MrG says they’ve been green since I’ve known him, which is ten years.