The other day I read an article which said that tall people (women in particular) have a greater risk of catching cancer.
For every four inches (10cm) above five feet a person was, the researchers said they had a 16% increased cancer risk.
Good. That means there is at least one benefit to being short (like me). I can’t otherwise see many benefits to being short. Of course it’s hard to find clothes that fit. After years of searching, I’ve tracked down a couple of places that sell trousers that are the right length for me, but long sleeves are always too long. Not only am I not tall, I’m short all over. Shoes aren’t a problem, but the fingers on gloves are usually too long. My bike is the smallest frame size going. I loveit, it fits me like a glove (gerrit!), but the design doesn’t go into detail, and the gear levers are too far away to for me to comfortably reach with my short thumbs.
Sunken and drunken
The seatbelt on my car doesn’t fall across my shoulder, as it would on a taller person. It saws across my neck and on long journeys I usually end up tucking it under my armpit. I can reach the pedals, just, but the depth of the seat in my car is much more than the depth of my thighs, so I’m always slightly slumped when driving. The seat depth problem applies to every public seat you can think of. Not only do my feet never reach the ground, but I always have to adopt a somewhat sunken, drunken position.
Climbing the walls
If I want to buy a porn magazine, I’ll have to go with a taller companion, because I don’t have a cat in hell’s chance of reaching that top shelf by myself. But it’s supermarkets that really *!%@ me off. Although I’ve developed a special scrambling technique for climbing up to the last packet of cereals nestled at the back of the highest shelf, I don’t always remember to take my crampons with me. Sometimes I endure the ritual humiliation of asking a taller member of the species to help me, but mostly I just buy eggs instead. Being short is crap.
Song of the Day
In my re-discovery of Green Day and Hootie and the Blowfish I came across another blast from the past. Chumbawamba, anyone? I’m sure I used to dance to this… Tubthumping, by Chumbawamba.