About average

I am wonderfully and perfectly average. I am of average height, and for that height, I am the average weight. There are six possible genotypes for the eye color brown (as opposed to a mere two genotypes for blue and green), and, as my eyes are brown, I'm in the majority. There is nothing remarkable, rogue, diverse, interesting, shocking, eye-catching, breathtaking, novel, or exceptional about me. I'm the consummate Everyman.

And yet, despite how boring that may seem, I feel incredibly lucky. Most things we encounter every day are catered to the average person. I can slip into a subway seat perfectly and when I have to stand, the overhead bars are at just the right height. Clothing stores always have my pants size. I can remain anonymous at almost every thinkable social gathering. I can be subsumed into the masses. I can disappear.

And yet, in the face in the comfort this gives me, I am constantly fighting this anonymity. I want people to look at me. I want to be exceptional. I want to leave a gaping hole in my wake when I leave the room. I want people to notice.

Still, regardless of how much I might struggle and flail and dig and shout, the most I could achieve, the most anyone can achieve, is to be slightly above average. Only slightly.

That makes me smile.