When I was a senior in college, I applied for a puppeteering job. [Is puppeteering even a word? Well, it is now]. I made it to second round interviews and things were going swimmingly. Until my interviewer asked me how tall I was.
I was too short to be a puppeteer.
It was heartbreaking. They wouldn’t even let me try out, wearing platform heels. Sad, sad day.
So it was with a certain mixture of feelings the other day that I realized that I was TALLER than the guy I was on a date with. I mean, for someone who’s 5’1 and 3/4 (can’t forget the 3/4) that doesn’t really happen very often. Or, at all, really. I felt gargantuan. I could look down on his head! I felt bad that I hadn’t worn flats! I felt so tall!
I think I prefer being a shorty.