I always wanted to be taller. When I stopped growing at 5 feet, 5 inches I was disappointed. I would probably add 2-3 inches to my stature if it were my choice.
Realistically I should be grateful I hit 5’5” since my genetics don’t bode well relative to height. My Mom isn’t quite 5’3” and one sister is only around 5’1.” And, of all the girls in my family, I’m actually the tallest (although, as I just pointed out, this isn’t saying much).
But, back to this sudden increase. Last week Brent and I had in-home physical exams for life insurance policies. A nurse comes to your home and gives you a complete work up; getting your pulse, blood pressure, urine sample, EKG, draws blood, etc. Measuring height and weight are two standard parts on the physical.
So, the nurse read my height at 5”6.” To which I quickly responded: “5’6?” I have never been 5’6” in my entire life!” But the nurse, who was nonplussed by my revelation, reiterated that I was indeed 5’6.”
This could mean one of two things. First, that I have grown an inch. Unfortunately, this is highly unlikely. I’m entering the phase of life where we don’t grow, we shrink. Plus, after not drinking milk most of my life I don’t think my bone density is in any position to buoy me up to look taller.
So, the second scenario is more likely true. Which is, that the nurse is one of those people who won’t admit that she is wrong. So, in my life insurance policy records I will remain 5 feet and 6 inches forever. Even though I’m really not.
But it felt awfully nice to hear my height as 5’6", even if it isn’t. Sort of like I might get a compliment where someone is being kind more than accurate but the compliment still feels good. Or, at least, until I realize that it isn’t completely truthful.