My Hips Don't Lie, They're Just Slow
I'm short. Anyone that knows me and/or has eyes knows that.
It's something that I've struggled with (okay, maybe that's a bit dramatic) or at least been aware of my whole life. Maybe that's because my little brother is 6"4, over a foot taller then me. Maybe it's because I was square in second grade: that means you're the same height in inches as you are pounds, which made me a little walking marshmallow. Maybe it's because I was always concerned about my weight and my doctor would reassure me by calling me a "cute little package." (That's got to overstep some kind of doctor/patient line, doesn't it?)
My boyfriend is 6 feet tall. I'm about 5"1 in the morning. This further exemplifies my shortness.
"Why do you date someone so tall, Emily? Can't you leave the tall guys for us tall girls, you harlot?!" you may ask.
Good question, you floozy. I date the tall boys because that way I can attempt to produce a normal-sized child. That’s right, I want my kids to have a normal life so they don’t end up with a Shaq-sized Napoleon complex (isn’t that a picture?) like myself. So essentially, I'm taking one for the team so my kids don't end up "special." I read recently that in Missouri, if you're 5"2 or under, you're actually considered a midget. I think I’m going to move to this magical land of Missouri so I can get my very own handicapped parking space and maybe a giant to reach the high shelves for me.
But enough about my future plans.
I found my height is particularly a problem when I'm walking with taller people and we're in a rush. After all, I can hustle, I've got the New York City shuffle down! But I always end up jogging alongside someone with longer legs. When they protest, I share with them that my legs are short. And I'm not complaining, I'm just stating a fact. Ergo, shorter legs slow you down.
My friend, Ilka, disagrees. When we studied abroad together in Australia we were always hungover/late for everything. She's 5"10ish. Our other partner-in-crime, Lexi, was almost 6 feet tall. When we'd hustle I'd just sprint next to them.
"You know, Em," Ilka said one day, "it's not that you have short legs, it's that you shake your hips when you walk. All that gyrating slows you down."
So apparently, I don't walk, I saunter. All these years I thought it was my stubby little legs that were slowing me down. Apparently, it's just my sex appeal.