So apparently the other day my wife Sharon and her co-workers get into some random discussion about height. One friend insists that the old adage that people shrink as they get older is true. Others are skeptical. Inevitably this leads to everybody getting measured. Sharon, who has been five foot six her entire adult life, is shocked to learn that she now measures five foot three!
Incredulous, she arrives home and immediately sidles up directly in front of me, eye to eye, making a serious invasion of my personal space. “What’s up?” I ask….nervously. “I’ve always been about one inch shorter than you, right?” she replies.
Yes, that is true. At five foot seven, I’ve always been just a tad taller. Sweet lady has chosen never to wear heels when we are together so that she doesn’t tower over me. So I try to calm her by assuring that she is still just a smidge shorter than me, that the measurement she received at work is obviously a mistake.
Then came my mistake, as I heard myself foolishly say “And just to prove it I’ll measure you myself.” I retrieve our trusty tape measure, usher Sharon to the nearest wall, instruct her to stand perfectly erect, and spread the tape out carefully head to toe.
Hmmmm…….sixty three and one half inches…five foot three and a half. Can’t be right. Let’s try it again……yep…..five-three and a half. She is crestfallen. She has shrunk two and a half inches!
Like the loving, thoughtful, considerate husband that I am, I console her and tell her she is still as beautiful as ever. However, along with all that loving, thoughtfulness and consideration comes a very slow brain reaction. It was not until several minutes later that the synapses started to piece together.
Let’s see now……
A. Sharon has shrunk.
B. Sharon is still almost as tall as me.
Therefore:
C……no wait, this can’t be true! Sharon, measure me immediately!
I plaster myself against the wall, fighting with all that is inside of me the urge to brace up on my tiptoes. Sharon stretches the tape…..65 inches. Five foot five!
No way! I grab the tape and endeavor to measure myself….stepping on the leading edge and pulling it up across my face. Using this highly questionable method, I come up with another half inch. Still, I face the horrible truth. I have shrunk!
I’m really not sure why this is so depressing. It really hasn’t changed our lives in any way. Heck, we didn’t even know it. I guess it goes to show the disproportionate value we humans place on height. Especially us men.
I’ll just put it out there. Life is better for a man if he is tall. It’s true. Studies show that tall men get better jobs, more girls, and just generally more respect.
When a tall man walks into a room, everyone notices. Clothes are made for tall men. The racks are full of sizes Large, Extra Large, Extra Extra Large, and Step Aside Little Man. Those of us searching for size small are fortunate to find one or two at the end of the rack, usually marked with a sign saying “Really?” Or “For more selections please see the children’s department”.
After all, the classic saying is “Tall, dark and handsome”, as if the latter two are impossible without the first. Who came up with that expression anyway? Have they never heard of Tom Jones? Sylvester Stallone? Mickey Rooney? (If you’re under the age of 40, I can hear you saying “Who?”)
I learn from the internet (so it must be true) that it has something to do with the muscles and stuff in your spine compressing and flattening out as you age.
So if you are a fellow senior citizen, pull out your driver license, look at the listing for height, and give it a sentimental kiss, because the reality is it’s probably just a wonderful memory.
As for me, my ego remains fragile. So if you see me on the street, resist the urge to call me Shorty or Pee Wee.
That is…..if you notice me at all.