I’ve been short all of my adult life. Not trying to be funny, but at ten I was the tallest kid in my classroom and my mother kept saying I’ll grow to be as tall as a model. Except, I never grew another inch and pretty soon all my schoolmates were taller than I was.
Being short is not too bad and since I’ve never been tall I have no idea if I have been missing out on something. I still managed to date tall guys, even married one of those. My kids turned out okay height wise, so all is good.
When I reached the coming of age part, I told everyone I was 5’2”. That’s what I had on all my official documents and it was easy to do because in those years, well, we fluffed our hair—a lot.
At some point the big hair went out of style and my official height got adjusted to 5’1”.
I wore very high heels.
Life goes on and heels go down. I’m now officially 5’ and proud of it. Still date tall guys, although most of them lost a few inches in translation.
Why am I telling all this? Well the other day I was revisiting in my mind all the good aspects of being short. You have no idea how many cool, tall guys I pick..huh..meet at grocery stores, by asking to please help me reach a can, a box, whatever is too high for me to get. And I have plenty of leg room when I fly.
However, years ago, I would get invited as guest on television shows and a few times I even had my own dressing room with the star and my name on the door..pretty cool, right? Nooo. The mirrors were always hung too high for me to see myself. Talk about infuriating.
I had forgotten about that detail until this weekend when I toured the headquarters of the brokerage firm I’m with. Very chichi indeed. I was impressed until I visited the bathroom. You guessed it, I couldn’t see myself in the mirror and I’m no vampire.