I’m not short, you’re short. Now stop it.

Tall dog, short dog.

I’ve been told I’m short, which I thoroughly dispute. Here are my guidelines for how tall you should be–for everyone’s sake.

I’ve mentioned before that I’m a scary person, but did I also say I’m of normal height? I’m five foot three and a half inches, which I swear is exactly average for women. If you don’t believe me… look, just believe me.

On occasion, people have told me I have short legs. I don’t. They go all the way to my feet, which reach the ground.

Clearly my legs are the perfect length.

But today I don’t want to talk about my height. I want to talk about your height.

I don’t know how this happens, given my previously-explained perfectly average height, but I spend most of my time around people who are taller than me.

As a result, looking at someone who’s five foot seven or eight feels like looking directly across. I swear these people are the same height as me; the tape measure disagrees.

I’m comfortable being around people this height and up to a little over six feet. Beyond that point, their ears are so far away from my mouth that talking becomes awkward, and I’m not sure they hear me anyway with all the noise from the planes buzzing past their ears.

So my first request is that you please not be any taller than six foot one, six foot two at the maximum.

Tall giraffe
Tell me you understand why this is entirely unreasonable.

I don’t know why you’d want to be–the jet fumes up there must be terrible.

That’s not entirely true. Being tall is useful for getting chocolate off the top shelf and the obscure books down from next to the ceiling.

But that’s not being supportive of the stepladder industry.

My other problem is with short people, and by short I mean under five foot seven. You make me uncomfortable.

What do you mean, I can’t complain about people two and a half inches taller than me being short? This is my rant and I certainly can.

To look at the faces of people under five foot seven–and this is my preferred way of talking to people–I have to look down (at least, it feels like it). I don’t like looking down at people.

I don’t think I’m better than you, so why should I have to look down at you?

Then there’s the issue of my shoulder. When you stand too close it gets in the way of seeing you.

Here we are trying to have a serious conversation about dragons, and this shoulder keeps blocking my view.

Am I the only one who’s noticed how often one’s shoulder is in the way?

(Not that I’ve checked or anything, but shoulders are firmly attached. Just in case you were wondering.)

Finally, when you’re wandering around down there I worry I might knock you over or step on you. This would be a terrible thing all around and would force me to change my name and emigrate, which I’m much too lazy to do.

So my second request is that you please not be any shorter than five foot seven.

I feel that with these two simple rules–you must be no taller than six foot two and no shorter than five foot seven–we have the potential to be very good friends.

Or I suppose we could always hang out while sitting down. This works better for drinking coffee, anyway.

Do you agree my height guidelines are eminently reasonable?

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Author: A.S. Akkalon

By day, A.S. Akkalon works in an office where the computers outnumber the suits of armour more than two-to-one. By night, she puts dreams of medieval castles, swords, and dragons onto paper.

20 thoughts on “I’m not short, you’re short. Now stop it.”

  1. I’m 5’8, but I was considered Amazonian in college since three of my best friends were approx. 5’2. Now, everyone thinks I’m much MUCH taller than I am because I wear six inch heels almost every day. I once took off my heels in public and caused a riot when the entire crowd realized I live a lie.

  2. Enormously appreciating the laughs from this corner of the world! I will have you know that I am actually shorter than I used to be, having descended from nearly 5’8″ to a wizened 5’7″. Which means we can be friends, so I don’t mind shrinking so much.

  3. This theory is all well and good but you know only short people measure in fractions of an inch, so you’ve exposed yourself as a midgetydwarfface.

    I’m 5’8″. My nan was 4’9″. I felt like a thug walking beside her and would hunch myself into an even more sinister-looking Quasimodo figure.

  4. I don’t know if we can be friends or not. I always thought I was 5’6″, then a few years ago was informed I was 5’7″. Apparently I either had a (very) late growth spurt, or I’ve been living a lie all these years. Can I say 5’7″ for the sake of being able to talk about dragons with you?

  5. I am 6’3 (and late to the party), but felt the need to come voice my disgust for your heightist views. Now, I am off as it’s exhausting yelling to be heard down there…

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