My mom wasn’t quite five feet tall.  The big moment in life that my siblings and I looked forward to as kids was the day when we surpassed our mom’s height.  Being the shortest of the three siblings in my clan it took me awhile, but I finally made it somewhere around age 15.  I am now 5 ‘ 2 1/2″.  And yes,  the 1/2″ matters.  When you are barely skipping above 5’2″ every little bit matters.

I wear a lot of high heels.  I wear so many high heels that it doesn’t always register with folks how short I am.  With 3 1/2″ heels I almost look like I am a “normal” height.  Today I wore my hot pink Levi sneakers about town and I have to say – I felt a tad diminutive.  Not that I tower over anyone with heels on – most days I just hope that I don’t have to strain my neck looking up at everyone who talks to me.  Yet I must admit, when I don’t have high heels on I feel my shortness.

It’s not that I really mind being short so much – at least I have an easy fix – high heels.  I guess I would rather be short than tall.  I am not faced with the issues my tall friends have with things like dating or clothes.  The issue of me being taller than a date has pretty much been a non-issue.  I never have to wear flats so I am not taller than my date.  I also do not have to be concerned about whether pants or dresses are too short.  I do have to buy either petite or junior clothes, but as I understand it from friends being a petite is actually an easier cross to bear than trying to find clothing for tall women.

So, being short is okay with me most days – even when folks tease me about it (apparently they never saw that movie Single White Female and have no appreciation for the damage a stiletto can do).  Nevertheless, I saw a shirt the other day with a quip that I am going to add to my arsenal for the next time I hear, “Wow…you are short!”  Here it is…it’s perfect – “I’m not short…I’m fun size.”  I’ll just add a wink at the end of that statement and leave them to ponder that.  Hopefully they’ll never look at a short person the same again. 😉

Day six hundred and sixty of the new forty – obla di obla da

Ms. C