My childhood friends will love that I’m sharing this …
I was always terribly short as a child. My shortness was such a ‘thing’ in my life that on my first day of high school I searched for my dining-room name card amongst all the cards in a messy pile on the table and when I saw “Little, Megan” I took it, assuming it was for me. Only belatedly did I realise the cards did of course have surnames on them – not pointed nicknames – and I’d taken the tag for a girl named Megan Little while there was still a “White, Megan” in the pile for me!
Incidentally, I knew Megan Little, and had for years. I was just so accustomed to the idea that Megan White is short – remarkably short – that in that youthful yet senior moment I took the wrong name card. When I realised my blunder I surreptitiously slipped it back into the pile, found “White, Megan”, and beat a quick retreat. But you can be sure I was calling myself plenty of other names as I walked away.
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