Shortness is something that I don’t experience in most things except being short of funds and short of time. I am hardly ever short of thoughts, ideas and things to say.
I can’t quite recollect when I became physically conscious as a child that I’m not short. At 5 ft 11 inches tall, I remember my growing up years of gangly arms and long legs and standing a head above my peers.
The height invited teasing and taunting from male peers who for some shortness of genes didn’t get to grow tall fast enough. For a while, I recall praying not to grow too tall and hunching to appear shorter to blend in with others and not get teased as such. My mother and grandma used to straighten out my shoulders and reminded me often to stand tall and look the person in the eye.
Eventually, I grew into the arms and legs and became comfortable with my height especially when I got invitations to model clothes and calendar pages.
Fast forward to my present day, the roundness of motherhood and age has made me shorter especially in the presence of my young 14-year-old son who’s 6 ft 4 inches and growing and his siblings who are fast catching up.
I am no longer bothered about my height since that was long settled, I am more concerned with the plumper parts that jiggle and wobble these days.
I am fighting the gravitational force of nature to keep the jiggle-wobble on a short leash. I guess nature will take its course eventually though we must do our best in a healthy manner to help it along and prolong the shortness of things. I guess I’ve got that figured out if only I can get a handle on my shortage of funds and time.
P.S. I couldn’t resist adding this throwback photo of mine that my husband dug up from God knows where.