It has been a hot second since I have written my blog. Life keeps happening. Between work, volunteering, and other obligations, my writing has been sitting in the corner collecting dust. Today, I dusted off my creativity and decided you all deserved a story about shrinkage. Get your head out of the gutter. I am referring to losing height as one ages.
I am very diligent about self-care and part of that involves annual doctor visits. My OB-GYN is one of those scheduled moments which I refer to as my oil change and tire rotation. Mammogram first where they use the girls as molding clay. I would give the whole experience a 3 on YELP. I feel like a margarita should be served afterwards to celebrate pushing through it. Room for improvement in that area. Then I do my urine sample, weigh-in, blood pressure and height measurement before I see the doctor. All my vitals were on point. Weight was good. Blood pressure was amazing (thank you medication) and my urinalysis was perfection. I was feeling pretty euphoric like I was kicking aging ass. My celebratory mood dimmed as she measured my height.
I am not tall. My driver’s license proudly displays a height of 5’1. While I wish I was granted height from upper management, I have embraced that I am a delightful ray of sunshine wrapped in a small package. I inquired about my height and she said, “You are measuring 4’11. WTAF. So rude. Sigh. I could not even wrap my head around it. Seriously, I am going to be pocket-sized soon.
I must shift my perception of this unfortunate situation. For example, if I fall, I am closer to the ground hence my injury might not be as bad as humans that actually got some height. See, it is all about looking at the positive. Hopefully, I won’t shrink enough to not be able to ride those attractions with height requirements.
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