I am what one would call a “petite” woman, standing about 5′ 3″ and weighing about 110 pounds.  There is one thing I am itching to yell out to New Englanders about my small stature:

“Just because I’m little doesn’t mean I don’t need space!”

What exactly do I mean by this?  Well, since moving up here almost five years ago, I quickly learned that people in New England do not seem to have the same idea of “personal space” as people in other regions of the country do.  Grocery isles are too narrow, and we have to duck a bit coming down the staircase so not to bang our heads on entry way’s frame.  In line at the grocery store, I have been nudged by a couple of grocery carts while waiting in line.  Really?  That’s not going to make the cashier ring up the person in front of me any faster.  At Dunkin Donuts today and other days, McDonald’s, and other places I’ve waited in line, people have stood so close to me that I could feel the brush of their clothing when they moved.  This makes me

Q U I T E   N E R V O U S

to the point where I tremble and have quick, panicky breaths.  And don’t get me started on the one Charles River trip to watch the famed July 4th fireworks…..shudder.

I know there are about six million of us crammed into a state the size of small island.  But we can still be a bit more considerate, people.  Here is a lesson in what personal space is:

Or maybe I should try what Nathan Destro did  couple of years ago, and strap a large circular ring around my waist.  But since I’m truthfully not bold enough to do that, I may resort to kindly asking people to back off before I hiss or bite.

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