As a child I was afflicted with shortness. In fact, most children suffer from shortness. But I wasn't going to let it get in the way of something incredibly interesting that was sitting on top of a worktop in the kitchen one day. I can't remember what it is, but I wanted it.
I grabbed the worktop with one hand and reached for the the jar of whatever it was with the other. All of my attention was focused on the jar of enigma.
Until I noticed something on my arm.
I stopped trying to reach the mystery jar and inspected my arm.
It didn't taste like anything and wouldn't come off, so I assumed it was a part of me. If it wasn't originally a part of me, I was willing to accept it. But where did it come from? Why was it brown considering the rest of me was a pasty white colour? I thought and mulled and pondered in a way that was probably an early sign of my impending career in humanities, but I could not figure out what it was. Since I didn't have any idea what melanin is and didn't quite grasp the concept of pigmentation, the nearest conclusion I came to was:
And that was my second ever outburst of political incorrectness. :)