I am freakishly, deceptively strong.

You wouldn't know it to look at me. I'm a reasonably skinny bastard. I'm lanky as all hell; I have longer-than-average arms and ridiculously long legs. If someone meets me when I'm sitting down, they're always surprised when I stand up and I'm only 5'7". I'm just long.

I have what's known as a dancer's physique; I'm long, narrow, and my power is concentrated in my legs. I'd be lying if I said that I actually have much power in my legs. But my arms are so freaking skinny that I appear to have "dancer's legs." My wrists are 5 and 1/2 inches in circumference, and my arms aren't much bigger. There's just no muscle there. Some people have chicken legs; I have chicken arms.

Now, when you're lanky, people don't expect you to be strong. In my case, the judgment would seem pretty fair. I have no athletic tendencies whatsoever. I'm a scrappy little bitch, though. When you grow up short and skinny (by seventh grade, I was 4'11" and 68 pounds--yes, people thought I was anorexic), you have to become scrappy. I call it Short Guy Syndrome; see Curley in Of Mice and Men for the SGS stereotype. Certain monsters used to observe incredulously, "You are a lot stronger than you look." Anyway, I can hold my own.

Case in point: the bathtub. About six months ago, I was taking a bath. My ankles crack like crazy, and my left (I think) ankle hurt. I stretched out a leg so that I could crack it against the far side of the tub, and instead, I cracked the bathtub.

Today, I was taking a shower, and I moved the shower head. It snapped off in my hand. The shower head is stainless steel; it's meant to be movable. I move it all the time. And today I accidentally, without any physical exertion whatsoever, snapped the damn thing off.

Conclusion? I am either an amazingly strong superhero, or we just have really crappy bath fixtures.

This is my gift. It is also my curse.