Five foot two and One hundred fifteen pounds of pure terror

I am about five foot two and a half. I thought for years I was five three, but some computer that automatically reads your body size at the New Orleans Children's Museum corrected me. So, according to this machine I am officially five foot two and a half. Problem is, half the time I seem to be under the impression that I am six foot two and weigh over 200 lbs. I, like totally, understand the Napoleonic Complex. I understand why the ancient Tibetans had the tiny Lhasa Apso as their first line of defense to protect the Buddha and guard the monastic treasures. We bark and bark and kvetch people to death.

I say all this because, yet again, I picked a fight with someone. Some little kid at an old BB I used to read (and now, once in a blue moon, visit) defended some guy beating up his wife because she "deserved it". Now, I am a mature woman, I should let these comments slide because 99% of the time they are made by hardup boys with 2 pubic hairs. No. Instead I call him a pussy, a coward and offer him to come try to beat ME up and see what happens. This is the second time I've done this on the BB. First time some guy said he wanted to beat up all the liberals and I offered him a time and place in Berkeley ("Campanile at noon you horrid bloated neocon toad"). Of course they never appeared.

NO one ever shows; though I have never backed down from anything, not from burglars in computer labs or knifers in San Francisco. It started with Carlise Cobbs in the 4th grade said she wanted to beat me to a pulp (all because I didn't know what giving someone the finger met). She offered to do this at the monkey bars at 3:00. I was actually SCARED of Carlise Cobbs, she was psychotic. I did go to the monkey bars at 3:00 to bravely meet my fate. She never appeared. In fact, she never bothered me again. Maybe she forgot?

Or, is it simply no one takes someone 5 foot two and half seriously? It is a problem.