When I was about fourteen, I grew about six inches in the same amount of months. I towered above my classmates, had cavewoman hair (it was way before GHDs revolutionised my life), and thought I looked like the Honey Monster.
But now…I’m happy with my height (5’9 – yes, it’s the average height for a man, but not so tall as to be taller than most men). Here’s why:
- I can see (most of the time) above crowds at the cinema, gigs and concerts.
- I can push my way on to the tube with relative ease.
- I can reach things without pulling any muscles.
- The handlebars on the crosstrainer are at just the right height.
- I can wear maxi dresses without looking like I’m drowning in fabric.
- I will never have short-person syndrome (although this doesn’t mean I don’t lose my temper…in fact, I’m not exactly sure of the definition of this syndrome…something to do with Napoleon perhaps? I’ll Wikipedia it).
- I can gain a bit of weight without it being monumentally apparent (thank you frame).
- I can enjoy blister-free, painless nights out in flat shoes.
- Tall women generally earn more in their lifetime than shorter women.
- I never have to stand on The Yellow Pages to…well, you know. I loved that advert! Aw, feels good to reminisce.