10 Reasons You Should Be Glad You're Short

Wish you were taller? Think again.The air isn't better "up here." Really. It's exactly the same as "down there." And there's a lot more to it. I am almost six feet tall and can tell you it's not all roses. Here are my top ten reasons you should be glad to be vertically challenged and give your self esteem a boost.

1. Tall isn't skinny. Skinny is skinny.

I sometimes hear people saying that if they were tall, any extra weight would be more evenly proportioned and their overall appearance would be improved. I don't like to be the one to contradict, but this makes no sense. Tall people already have "extra weight" simply by having more vertical mass. Since bigger bodies require more energy and nutrients to maintain, tall people have to eat plenty of food. What that means is, if you have the same health habits as a tall person that you had as a short person, the weight gain would increase in proportion to the new size. Here is the nicest way I can say this: When I have extra fat on me, I look like an ogre.

2. Tall people still have to use stools and stepladders.

An extra 6-10 inches is not the same as an extra 3 feet. I still have to use a stool to reach into, and see the back of, all but the lowest kitchen cupboards. I frequently find myself standing on a chair.

3. Tall people do not make better basketball players.

Strength, agility, speed and great hand-eye coordination (and a whole lot of practice and dedication) make great basketball players. Height can help in some positions but it's not the end all. Some amazing players are short. See this link.

4. Height does not mean you should be a model.

Some of my sisters have been models and none of them are more than usually tall. Some are quite short. Anyone can be a model. If you have healthy hair, you can be a hair model. If you have nice hands, you can be a hand model. Nice neck, feet or skin? You get the picture. Plus, with all the photo editing, the magazine pictures of models don't even look like themselves. The only thing required to be a model is work. It's a work I never wanted to do. I simply don't care enough about my appearance to want my paycheck to depend on it.

5. Being a tall girl makes it harder to find taller guys.

If you don't care about this, good for you. I, however, do like my date to be a leetle taller than me. Tall guys are not exactly in short supply (see what I did there?) but the chances of hitting it off don't increase just because you look good together. Finding the right person for you is hard enough as it is. Now try adding height into the equation. I feel blessed that my hubby is one inch taller.

6. Clothing challenges rise to new levels

If you can find pants long enough, it's like a miracle. A very expensive miracle. When you do find long ones they are usually too big around. The perfect fit is pretty much only available at the mall and runs approximately $70. If you're still growing (and you can never tell!) it's pretty pointless.

All too short. And that shirt I'm wearing, it's a dress. 

All my favorite knee-length dresses have become thigh-length dresses. And they were so cute! Sniff. Shopping has become something like a bad dream. You're looking and looking for something. You can't find it anywhere and then you realize all your clothes are missing. Aaaah! Wake up! It's not real. Oh, wait. It is.*%^&

Beautiful dresses that would be stunning on a shorter person look like a shirt on me. A weird, evening gowny shirt. (Or maybe lingerie.) Speaking of shirts, they are made for short torsos. The designers can't/won't lengthen them without also increasing the width, so finding one long enough pretty much guarantees you a tent. Did I mention that you can't trade clothes with your short sisters?





7. High heels make you a giant

This is bad for two reasons. One, all the really cute shoes make you taller than all the really cute guys. (The guy I liked in the beginning of my sophomore year in high school was six inches shorter than me by the end of it. Not cool.) Two, you're so tall that if you trip, you fall for miles, or so it feels like. Even when you aren't falling, you're like a floating head. Just floating around above everyone else's heads. It's even worse on skates.

8. You hit your head on things

Low doorways. Crawl spaces. Attics. When you sit in the back seat of a car and your head bumps the rear window the whole drive, life is pretty ridiculous. I haven't even mentioned leg room in cars and planes.

9. Sinks and counters are too low to use without stooping.

Short people are always complaining that they have to stand on their tippy toes to reach things. Well, tall people have to do that too and at least it doesn't destroy your posture. It gets super annoying having to bend so far all the time just to do the dishes. And they should make counters taller. I'm taking my protest to new heights. Seriously. I may refuse to cook.

10. People always think you're the oldest

People will think that your younger siblings are your children. Your older sisters will be mistaken for your younger sisters and people think you're a grownup when you're sixteen.That's not all bad (hee hee) but you'll never blend in at your old high school (just in case you were sent there on assignment like in Never Been Kissed.)

If this doesn't pump some gratitude into the hearts of all you short people, I know something that will. Just think of all the closet space you can fill with your smaller clothes. Extra room for all those super cute high heels. I hope you trip. XOXOXO

Happy Crazy Backwards Day--True Confessions of a Working Mom

Being a mom is hard work. Being a Mormon mom is a blessing with lots of responsibility. Being a working Mormon mom is like trying to juggle EVERYTHING! Show up. Look nice. Be nice. Get the job done. Try and keep your priorities straight.

 I love being a wife, a mom and a Mormon. Especially with angelic help, which I believe I am entitled to. I  try hard. I really do. HOWEVER, sometimes, I get a little mixed up. Or a lot mixed up. And it's usually funny. (If it's not funny now, it will be in ten years.) If I can't be perfect, I am at least going to laugh. Here's a story of how all my ambitions and good intentions went completely backwards.

 The backwardness actually started with my working all night, and then going to bed while my family was waking up. Things just got crazier from there. I sat around all day trying to wake up and forgot to eat, so I was starving by the time I left my home, where my husband was MAKING DINNER, to go hang out with some girlfriends, where I knew there would be no food. I even had a headache coming on. That backwardness was just the beginning. I realized that I had forgotten my sewing machine, that my hair and makeup were not done, and I was headed to a craft night with two very pretty ladies who never forgot to do their hair and makeup. This is going to be good.

When I arrived at my friend's house, I found that no one was at home, they all having gone to the fabric store. One friend had sent me a text of the change of plans but it was unclear to me (probably I was reading it backwards) and the other friend's text ended up somewhere in Hawaii (where I would like to be but in the interest of opposites, reversals and backwardness, I was not there to receive my text.) My husband advised me to come home and bring back a movie for us to watch together. At that point, I really wanted to, but my friends felt so bad for the crazy communication that leaving now would have been cruel and insulting.

I sat there in my car, watching the house and being as creepy as possible. (Actually, I was watching Internet videos and so missed the exact moment of arrival.) After forty minutes of this, I finally went inside and had a great time eating candy and popcorn for a nutritious dinner and watching the same movie I would have seen with my husband that night. No crafts after all. Once the movie was over, I declared that I needed to go home, sent a text to my husband to that effect, and then proceeded to stay another twenty minutes.

 Having asked hubby to get a movie for us to watch, I went home expecting to snuggle up in my messy house. What I found was a much tidier house than I had left. Backwards, but a good backwards. There was no movie. I checked my phone, (which had been on silent the entire night!) and found a message from my love, asking me to get the movie, as the kids were in bed. There was no time for it anyway. Oh, well. Might as well go to sleep, which he immediately did. Having slept all that morning, a REM cycle was much more difficult for me to achieve. I knew I was going to be up late, which was bad, because I expected company in the following early afternoon and the house was not up to par. I finally drifted off into a troubled dream state and that was the official start of my Crazy Backwards Day.

The alarm must have rung eighty times before my husband got up and took our oldest son to school. The knowledge that my youngest boy would tear apart the whole house in short order was enough to drag me out of bed too. Hubby and Denny were gone and hot cereal was on the table. Perhaps it was a nod to Opposites Day but whatever the reason, my husband had switched the bowls--not the portions, just the dishes around, giving the toddler a giant bowl and reserving the baby bowl for me. Good, I thought, I'm just going to embrace it all. If this is backwards day, bring it on.

I ate my breakfast, calling down blessings upon my hubby's head for it, and then decided to clean the house. I was totally exhausted, but GUESTS WERE COMING and the house must be in order. I started by unloading the dishwasher of all the dirty dishes that I had put in there clean the day before. (Backwards is beautiful.) I planned the meal I would cook, (pasta with homemade sausage) and grabbed all the grody towels and stuffed them into the washer. I went to dress and was combing my hair when a ginormous wave of fatigue jumped on my face and beat me into submission.

"You need a haircut and a bath," I told my son as I changed back into my pajamas. "I'll cut your hair in a little while" and I lay down on top of the blankets in my unmade bed. "You have time to get some cleaning done while Mommy is napping." With that, I slept like a baby, which means I woke up all the time and screamed. "Leave the fridge alone! Don't break that! Turn the water off! Did you clean your room? That's too loud!"

I eventually got up. It was time to pick up my son from school, so naturally, I started frantically cleaning my house again. After a while, I knew that my guests would be arriving, so I immediately left the house. They texted me that they were running late. Perfect. Me too. I picked up my son, and returned home to find peeps on my porch. They looked surprised to see me in my pajamas but I just smiled and asked if they'd been waiting long. Once we got inside, I wanted to be the best host ever, so I left them all alone in the living room while I changed into slacks and a sweater.

The house was presentable, sort of. The bathroom was cleaner than it looked and the living room looked cleaner than it was. I started making a late lunch and needed my apron, only to remember that it was still in the washer. I didn't get a chance to talk much. My kids were doing plenty of that anyway. My four-year-old got so excited that he kept shouting. Every time he did this, he disturbed the baby, which disturbed his mama, which disturbed all of us. Things were going great.

After a while, my guests said they had to go visit other friends and so departed with hugs. My oldest son burst out crying because they couldn't stay, and screamed after they left because nobody would leave him alone. He got a timeout and then we ate our pasta and sausage by ourselves. It was delicious. Heedless of the cold outside, my boys ate huge glasses of ice and played Ghost in the Graveyard in daylight.

This has been about the best Backwards Day ever, although, my poor guests got the brunt of it. Someday I'll have them over again and I will be at home, on time, and dressed. The only thing I want to do now is watch the second half of a girly movie and then cuddle to sleep with my love.

 My boss just asked me to come in for an evening shift. I guess I'd better change into my work clothes. Now if I can just pull these pants over my head and work my feet through the sleeves of my work shirt, I'll be set. I'll head to my job as soon as hubby gets home from his. When I come back, I'm starting this day over. When you run a backwards day in reverse, it comes out right. (If you get enough sleep.)