The Irritations of being Non-Average

Warning, the following article contains language of an extreme griping nature.  Read at your own boredom.

There are of course, many irritations in one's life (the abundance of morons in the world being a big one) and a lot of the time these irritations are shared amongst the collective population of the planet.  As in, things aren't so bad when everyone has to endure the figurative turds constantly being thrown at them.  But then, there are irritations which are shared by the minority of people for the simple fact of that said "population of the planet" and their general uniformity.

You see, I was born different.  Not like other humans.  I'm special.  Now, if this was a superpower like being able to absorb knowledge by eating books, that would be awesome.  But alas, it is nothing so exciting.  It is, brace yourself, the power of being ever so slightly different in size and general composition than the average pleb.

Its something that has manifested itself throughout my life, each time just niggling at me a little bit and making my slog that little bit harder.  The first I noticed, were shoes.  They simply don't fit.  They're always too slim and the wide fitting ones are wide in the wrong places.  Add to this that my size for the most part (depending on the stupid ass manufactures whims) is a UK 11 and a half.  Nowhere stocked 11 and a half.  11, often.  12, rarely.  11.5, practically never and when they do its in some gaudy pink and green effigy.  Fuckers.  Things are a little easier here for the size at least, but the idea of having comfy shoes is something I gave up on a long time ago.

Buying jeans is much the same story, I'm a 33/32.  The world is made for people who are 32/32 or 34/32, but rarely 33/32 (infact, getting a leg size that is smaller or the same as your waist size seems to be beyond the norm).  My shoulder to waist/chest ratio is also slightly off meaning that shirts and t-shirts are a pain if I don't want to look like a vain body builder/secretive pregnant teenager.  Now, I know I can go to special places and buy special sized stuff, but, it does so suck donkey arse that I don't have much of a range to choose from.

Then, there's the most recent events.  I'm trying to get a couple of issues I have with my contact lenses sorted out.  Simple you would think, and after weeks of trying different lenses, it would be sorted.  But, of course, I need a power that is at a .25 incrementation when they only do .50.  The diameter needed for my giant (therefore gorgeous) eyes is something that is simply not manufactured (unless you have astigmatism, and then, you're an extra special little twat and can have the larger lenses for your privileged seeing balls).  Oh, and just incase all that was too easy, the curve of my eyeballs is just inbetween two standard sizes, 8.6 and 8.8.

And then, my teeth.  You see, for those that don't know I've been having a single root canal done for the past 3 and a half months, with practically bi-weekly visits to the torture chair (only softened by giggly attractive dental assistants), all without much of a resolution.  The reason turns out to be (after having to go to an expensive specialist) is that my tooth has two root canals in it, hidden at the base, when it should only have one.


I could go on and list many more little things, but, what can one do at the end of the day.  Not much really, just cope with the deal that life has given me, complain about it and do my best to illicit sympathy from as many people as possible.  Plus, there are, of course, some parts of the anatomy that are improved when they're above the average, so I can't complain too much.


Ps. I'm talking about my problem finding a hat for my large head, hence containing my mammoth brain and huge intellect.  What did you think I meant you filthy minded little deviants?