I was 5'2 3/4" for the longest time. Then I took a yoga class and managed to stretch myself out to a full height of 5'3". I am petite. I have little shoulders, a little waist, tiny wrists, small feet, and a miniature face.
The main female character of the novel I'm writing is a lot more socially conscious than I am. She's not nearly as bookish, and she's more outgoing, if a little less independent of spirit. But we do have one major thing in common: we're both petite.
So she sees the world as I see it: a world of shoulders. She goes through the world as I do: trying (unsuccessfully) to wear cool clothes that only come in "One Size Fits Most," tripping over the hems.
I'm in Chapter 8. I decided to make her tall in this chapter. Just to see what it would be like to have character who towers over everyone else. And to see if her tall body fits her personality better than her short body seems to be doing.
I've been writing for about an hour, and I can't help feeling extremely gangly and awkward. My arms seem to stretch to the ground. I actually ducked when I went through a doorway just now--as if I really needed to. That weirdness was what inspired me to write this post.
I love writing. It's kind of neat to feel tall.