I am practically perfect in every way. Well, except for the fact that I am three inches too short. Supposedly, I’m on the tall side of average for a female.

I call BS. It’s either a load of steaming cow manure, or there’s a vast conspiracy against us.

You see, I have deduced that 5’7” is the height of perfection for a human being. I have very painstakingly compiled my research on this over the last two decades. 5’7” is how tall you need to be to reach the top shelf in the kitchen cabinets in sock feet. It is how tall you need to be to reach a ceiling light with a two-step stool rather than having to lug the ol’ 6-footer out of the garage. It is somewhere in the correct vicinity of what ALL MAKERS OF JEANS make the leg-length for women. I have to hem off about an inch and a half from mine.

Every. Time.

If I ever found a magic genie lamp, I would rock that shit. You know the stories about how to be careful what you wish for? There’s the man who wished for eternal life and got hexed by his mischievous gods ‘cause he forgot to ask for eternal youth at the same time. Or the backfires that come from asking for glorious riches, or even world peace. I would love to see how they would warp a wish to be “three inches taller than I am right now, proportionally enlarged.”

The worst thing the gods could do is to cause all clothing manufacturers to change the leg length again. Bring it. At 5’7” I can wear a skirt that’ll hit me properly at two inches above the knee instead of at it. And I’d also be able to rock one of those bitchin’ trench coats instead of looking like I’m a little girl in daddy’s coat.

This brings me around to everyone who is above 5’7”. You’re too damn tall. Stop it. After I take over the world, I think I’ll decree that you should squat to walk around a bit so that you’re no taller than you ought to be. It might start to make up for all the time I’ve spent on my tippy toes, reaching for things.

I take my kid to hockey practice and I am pretty sure that some of the hockey dads there are related to ogres. These guys are somewhere between 6’4” and two story building. They practically have line of sight on the rink from the parking lot.

Dude, you can see over my head standing barefoot while I’m wearing 3” heels and jumping up and down. Why the hell would you stand in front of the short people?

I know you saw me. You looked down to make sure you didn’t step on me while you pushed in front of me to block my view.

You should be nicer to short people like me. Don’t you know that the difference in our height only makes it easier for me to punch you in the nuts?

Where was I? Oh right, world conquest over the tall people. Note to self: anybody over 6’4″ will have to walk around on his knuckles like a gorilla.

Napoleon has nothing on me for a psychological complex. I think being nose-at-your-armpit level our entire lives eventually makes us snap. Or maybe it’s the fact that I’m always being strangled by the shoulder belt in the car. Or that I have to make sure I’m standing on the first stair of the landing when I give someone tall a hug.

You see, these are all things I’ve had to think about. You tall people have no idea the sort of logistics involved in going about daily existence as a short person.

Screw it.

Until I find my magic lamp, I’m going to go play on the bouncy castle. I still meet the height restrictions at Chuck-E-Cheese’s, and I’m taking whatever what I can get.

Author

Anne usually speaks in memes and SAT words, and she frequently attempts to explain the laws of physics and high school chemistry according to the kitchen via her home blog FoodRetro. If you want to know why ice melts or pretzels turn brown, and you want to make food that you never imagined could be made from scratch in the process, she's your blogger. Her friends describe her as "hilarious when you get to know her," but it could be that they are just amused by the way she gets riled up when reading the paper. She can also be found playing the part of community editor and grammar nazi here on BLUNTmoms.

4 Comments

  1. I agree on the 5’7 being the perfect height albeit from the opposite perspective, I am 5’11 and let me tell you it is no walk in the park that you think it is.
    Yes I can reach the top shelf in the supermarket but did you know that EVERY counter top/table is built for people 5’7 and is so low for me that it hurts my back to sit/stand at? Slouching to look people in the eye is hard on the shoulders as well.
    Pants can be shortened easier than lengthened. Unless I want to spend my entire child benefit check on jeans at the ONE AND ONLY tall store in the city (with the selection of blue, black or grey pants in the same style) I walk around looking like a flood is coming.
    Forget wearing heels too. Even 1″ kitten heels make me tower over the guys, causing my ample bosom to be eye level.
    I think you short people just didn’t try hard enough when you were growing, slacking off! Maybe you should have drank your milk! ;-P

    • Haha! Maybe you should write a post from the opposite perspective. Hey, I know some guys who are between 6’4 and 2 story building. Want I should hook you up? 😉 By the way, my mom was 5’10– clearly I had a cosmic joke played on me.

  2. I feel your pain. I’m 5’1.5″ (yes the half inch counts for something) and occasionally the Petit section is still too long for me… But now I live in the Netherlands and I’m surrounded by giants. At least I can dive through the small spaces easily.

  3. I am 5’2 on a good day and besides not being able to reach anything in my own house, I have to be in the front of every group picture all squat and midgety while the tall, graceful gazelles tower over me. And I ain’t getting any taller. Sigh

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