Too Short To Reach My Amazon Shoulder
Stand against my height wall. Heels down. Back straight. Look up.
The black line above your head marks my shoulder. You came into Titaness Voss's private strength studio claiming we would look almost equal standing together. I press one palm onto your head, draw your real height on the wall and make you follow the empty distance upward to mine.
Your fingertips cannot reach the steel ring beside my shoulder. Your eyes remain below my chest. Even with your whole body stretched tall, you are still the little man trying to compare himself with a six-foot-five Amazon.
Then my hands close around your waist.
Both shoes leave the floor together. I lift you past your real height mark and hold you at my eye line while your legs hang beneath you. Every inch you gain belongs to my arms. I carry you along the mirror on one forearm, lock you beneath one bicep like luggage and make you watch your borrowed height move wherever I take it.
You wanted to stand shoulder to shoulder with me. I give you exactly that position, with one humiliating correction: my arm is holding your entire body up. I carry you across my studio, drape you over the Amazon shoulder you could not reach and measure the gap between your shoes and the floor.
When your toes approach the mat, I lift you away before your heels can land. One false return becomes a set of controlled height repetitions. Down toward your real mark. Back to my eyes. Down until you expect your weight to return to your legs. Up until the mirror shows you suspended beside Titaness Voss.
For the final measurement, I hold you on one arm at shoulder height. Behind us, the wall shows three lines: the height you earned standing alone, the height my strength gave you and my mark above both.
Look up, little man. You finally reached my Amazon shoulder, and the only reason you are there is because I still refuse to put you down.
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