'I'm in love with a little orange man!'
Mark with Jodie Marsh
Saturday 31st January 2009
Opening the newspaper, it was the first thing I saw. Jodie Marsh, draped over some bloke.
Her grey T-shirt was straining against her 32G boobs, and her bottom half was barely covered by knee-high boots, patterned tights and tiny black pants. I scrunched up my nose looking at her thigh wedged between the bloke's legs, and her tongue aimed at his chest.
Not that he minded, judging by the daft grin spread all over his face.
Nothing new there, right? But it wasn't just any bloke that Jodie was canoodling with. It was my bloke, Mark Sealey, 34. I didn't even raise an eyebrow.
'Mark,' I called, before flicking over the page to read the horoscopes. 'You're in the paper again.'
Most women would hit the roof if they opened the paper to see their partner getting cosy with a party girl like Jodie. But I'd been with Mark for 11 years, and we had two kids. I knew this was all in a day's work for him.
Being an actor and only 4ft tall, he'd been in everything from panto to Casualty. But weirdly, it was his latest job promoting a fizzy drink as The Little Orange Tango Man, that had got him the most attention yet.
'It sounds like a lot of fun,' he'd told me, explaining he'd have to go to London wearing a bright orange T-shirt, with his face painted to match, and try to get papped with celebrities.
'Are you sure you want to do this?' I'd asked, worried that he'd be made the butt of the joke.
'I'm sure,' he'd grinned. 'You have to laugh at yourself, don't you?'
Typical Mark. That just about sums up all that I love about him. Maybe it's because he was born with a so-called disability. Rather than let it destroy him, he adopted a 'who gives a stuff?' attitude and grabbed life with both little hands. And now, he'd been pictured in the paper painted bright orange pouncing on celebrities like Jonathan Ross, Michael Caine and Andrew Lloyd Webber. Can you imagine a 'normal' bloke sending himself up like that? Every time he'd been snapped, the phone had rung off the hook with people telling me they'd seen it. The picture of him and Jodie was the funniest yet. As soon as I put down the paper, my phone rang right on cue.
'Have you seen what your Mark is up to today?' chuckled my nan.
'You know what he's like,' I sighed.
She did. She was there when I met Mark in a pub in Darlington, on Valentine's Day 1997.
I'd known straight away that he wasn't a normal bloke. And I'm not just talking about his height. Despite the fact he only came up to my chest, Mark had the biggest personality in the room. And the biggest mouth! You should have seen him. Perched on a bar stool, surrounded by an audience, he'd entertained everyone with his acting tales. The whole bar was gripped. What he lacked in height, he certainly made up for in presence. And then he turned to me.
'Can I get you ladies a drink?' he asked me, my nan and my mum, bold as you like.
'OK,' I smiled.
I had to admit I was flattered. Was I bothered by his size? No. He was the most popular man in the pub and he wanted to buy me a drink. And anyway, at 5ft 2in, I was hardly giving Jodie Kidd a run for her money, was I?
Mark came back with my glass of white wine, and we chatted for the rest of the night.
'I'm from Oxford,' he told me. 'I'm just up here in Darlington visiting some friends I met while I was here doing panto at Christmas.'
'So you're an actor,' I said, impressed.
He told me he did panto every year, as well as other odd bits of theatre. It sounded much more glamorous than my life.
'I really enjoy it,' he told me. 'And anyway, because of my height, I couldn't cope with a “normal” job. Can you imagine me stacking shelves or working behind a bar?'
He had a point.
After that night, we kept in touch, and Mark was up and down the M69 like a yo-yo. I was really falling for him. For a little man, Mark sure did make the earth move. So just six months later, we moved in together in Oxford. It sounds weird , but the longer we were together, the more I grew in confidence. Before, I'd barely say boo to a goose. But living with Mark taught me to get the most out of life and how to deal with ignorant people.
As we walked down the street hand-in-hand, or looked into each other's eyes at a restaurant, I wouldn't even notice people staring at us. Stuff 'em! Mark and I were in love and nothing was going to come between us. Least of all, one measly foot.
Mark's type of dwarfism, Kniest Syndrome, was the most common type and meant he also had to wear a hearing aid, as he was partially deaf. But apart from that, his size didn't make much difference. We didn't have to make alterations to the house, just make sure there were a few stools dotted around for Mark to climb up on if there was something he couldn't reach. In 1999, we were delighted when I fell pregnant. Kniest syndrome is genetic, so there was a 50/50 chance that our baby would be little like Mark, but we could cope with that.
'We'll love it no matter what,' I said.
'Good things come in small packages,' Mark smiled.
And when I gave birth to Ellie in February 2000, and we saw her short arms and legs and rounded tummy, it didn't matter a bit.
When I fell pregnant again, I had a feeling that this baby would be born a dwarf, as well. Sure enough, Katie was just like her older sister and dad.
'If they're like you in more ways than just height, we'll be very lucky indeed,' I smiled, as I watched Mark rocking Katie to sleep. After all, he's not just a dwarf. He's funny, charming and talented, with a great sense of humour, You only have to look at the Tango adverts to see that. Ellie's 8 now, and old enough to know that she's not like her friends.
'Good things come in small packages,' I tell her, just like Mark said to me at the hospital before she was born.
Now she parrots it round to all her mates at school, and so far, she hasn't had any bullying.
I just hope she and Katie don't let their height hold them back, but with Mark as a role model. I can't see that happening. He might be 4ft tall, but no matter how big our girls grow up to be, I know they'll look up to their dad. Just like their mum does.
The soft drink Tango and its infamous cheeky attitude are under threat and, as a result, we could lose it from Britain. To show your support and help save Tango, visit savetango.co.uk