157 cm

This might be quick. I'm tired, and I seem to have pulled a muscle in my shoulder while table-wrestling this morning (read that as: trying to keep the improperly-stacked tables from killing me). Neither of the above makes me feel much like being witty, clever, &/or pointless.

Although... I can be pointless without feeling much like it. I'm just that good.

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Has anyone figured out what 157 cm has to do with anything yet? It's nothing about the pointless photo (which is, as advertised, pointless), if that's what you were thinking.

Any other guesses?

What if I said that 157 cm has a lot to do with pretty much everything in my life? Have you got it now?

Ok then, what if I tell you that it's a figure that you're likely to find somewhere in my purse, especially if I'm... oh, I don't know... let's say driving and make it completely obvious.




Please tell me I don't have to spell it out for you by also mentioning my weight and eye colour (which I haven't really ever identified anyway since it changes depending on the light. My eye colour, that is. Not my weight. That'd be a pretty neat trick, though).

Yep, 157 cm would be my height. A whopping 157 cm, give or take. For those of you not on the metric system you'll have to ask Google to translate because I'm not going to humour (with the extra u for emphasis, yes) your outmoded measurements in my current mood.

Something about being tired and achy makes me bitchy as well, I suppose.

Anyway. Height. Now that I've mentioned it, I guess I have to elaborate a little bit.

Have you ever considered how much your height affects your view? I imagine that it could literally (I've never been tall, so I don't know if tall people really do have a tendency to look down on people), but even if it doesn't it certainly changes how you operate within your world.

I'm short. I live an existence of step-stools. It's what I have to do, so I don't often think much about it when I'm in the middle of standing on tiptoe to get something down from a shelf, or (as happened this morning), reaching well above my head to write on a chalk board.

If you were to somehow suddenly add 20 cm to my height, I'd be completely disoriented. Things -- things in general -- would look wrong. I notice it on a small scale when I wear heels, but I can't really even imagine dealing with added height on a daily basis.

I don't wear heels on a daily basis, in case you wondered. They don't go so well with the whole nature thing. You tend to sink heel-first into the grass, and that defeats the whole purpose of using the silly impractcal footwear in the first place.

Erm... lost the thought there. Gimme a second.

Height. Right. I've been 157 cm since I was about 13 years old. I've gotten used to looking up peoples' nostrils.

If I starting seeing their bald spots instead I think I'd be a little uncomfortable.







I expect there are probably a lot more bald spots out there than I realise, come to think of it.





All right, that mental picture has completely preempted any chance of this becoming a serious post, so I'd better stop typing so all of you can go back to hiding your bald spots from me. We'll call it the Bald Spot Conspiracy: they're there, but you just can't see them.

If you're 157 cm tall, that is.

And I wish more of you would trim your nose hairs, to be honest.





Going now, yes.