Sooo, like... What happened?

To the outside world, I am different. Something is wrong with me. I am not normal, and that can't just be. People can't just settle with that. They need an explanation. They need a reason. Simply existing is not enough. Something must have happened. 

I can always sense when this question is going to surface. Someone who I am meeting for the first time is having troubles with wrapping their brain around my appearance. They stumble across the words like "disability," "short," or "difference," but then out it comes like word vomit-- "So.. what happened?" 

I didn't eat my vegetables.
I sneezed too much as a baby. 
A heavy object fell on top of my head. 
I'm under a spell. 
I sold my growth plates on the black market.   

Actually, nothing HAPPENED. I feel like breaking out in Lady Gaga's "Born This Way" when someone asks that stupid and borderline-rude question. Asking what happened infers that I WAS normal, and now I am not. This actually reminds me of when a doctor of mine met me for the first time, reviewed my chart, and said: "So I notice that your height seems to be a little shorter than average. Has it always been this way, or is this recent?" 

There are a million better ways to ask me what happened, besides "What happened?" How about...

"Is there a reason for your short stature?"

"I'm curious. Would you mind explaining your condition to me?" 

"Is your condition genetic?"

"Is there a specific name for your disability?" 

Any variation of any of those questions will convey to me that you would like to know about my dwarfism. I honestly understand. I get it. Some people have never experienced dwarfism outside of fairytales and Disney movies. I may be the first little person they have ever seen, and I am more than willing to educate them. Believe me, after 19 years, I have the speech down. 

I was born with Achondroplasia, a form of dwarfism. Over 200 types exist, and mine is the most common. I have short arms and legs, an average torso, bowed legs, limited extension of my elbows, and other minor joint issues. My family is average stature, and actually about 80% of dwarfs are born into average families as well. During conception, a mutation occurred on Fibroblast Growth Factor Receptor 3, which is located on the 4th chromosome. On average, this affects about 1 in every 14,000 births. I can pass my condition onto my children, and those chances vary depending on who I have children with. I live my life similarly to anyone else and can do just about anything I want, with occasional accommodations. 

That's what happened.