Monday, August 25, 2008

Height (hīt)(n.): the distance between the lowest and highest points of a person standing upright; stature

Guy is a heightist. My future husband, the one who is a mere thirteen inches taller than I am, has a prejudice against short people. He seems to have gotten to a point where he can look over the fact that I am undeniably short and love me in spite of it but will never let me forget it. That of course doesn't keep him from saying at least one demeaning thing. Today as we drove he attempted to explain to me why I should never be allowed to drive a truck because he has a rule that if you can't see over your car you shouldn't drive it. With that said, I don't drive. I never learned. I tried and I won't say I failed, I just never invested a lot of time or effort into it. Sure, I want to be able to drive and now that I am planning my wedding I need to but the idea of driving Guy's Altima to will undoubtedly explode and fling my body into millions of little pieces all over San Diego County. Now that I've learned I am officially too short to drive the 4Runner I have no inclination to learn. He also holds the opinion that short people walk to slowly, which is probably true when one's strides are twice as long as your counterparts. I've all but given up holding hands while attempting to walk with him because I look like that four year old you see being hastily dragged through the mall and wonder why their mother ever decided to have kids in the first place. How did I fall in love with a 6'5 heightist?


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