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

I Married Superman

How do you know if you've got a good man? Well, if he's willing to put others above himself, stay cheerful in times of trial, knows when to keep his mouth shut, doesn't take things personally, works really hard, doesn't let fear stop him, keeps his promises, says he's sorry, doesn't make excuses, treats every woman with respect, gives up his seat to elders, picks up little children when they're crying, helps unload the groceries, listens to how your day went and saves his best smile for you, he's AMAZING. Keep that guy around.

Sometimes I can't believe how blessed I am. I can't wrap my mind around the fact that my husband loves me. Loves ME. LOVES me. How unlikely. How impossible. And how true. How and why did he ever fall in love with me in the first place? I thought at the time and I have thought since, that it is a miracle.

Because it is.

I used to talk about my husband all the time with girlfriends. Listening, really, as all these women playfully criticized their soulmates. Again and again the complaints would come out. "He doesn't help around the house. He won't change diapers. He gets ticked off when..." It was social murmuring, a time of "getting it out" and sharing. I'm a social person and the exercise seemed harmless enough at the time, but I honestly couldn't think of anything negative to say about my husband. Not one thing.

They'd all be complaining because their husbands all did something or other, and I'd have to admit, "My husband doesn't do that." I hadn't learned to keep my mouth shut, and why should I? My love is sweet and deserves to be praised. I don't want anybody talking bad about him, especially me. Other women didn't see it that way.

I must have been pretty convincing in my praise, because they all believed my husband to be sweet and clever and good. They just didn't think that I deserved him. Since I never took the trouble to brag about myself, they just assumed that I was a grouchy, horrible wife, who was all take and no give and who would soon be divorced. Ouch.

I'm going to skip all the "Where do they get off" outrage at their presumptions and just get to the part where they insulted my husband's intelligence. Sure, he's smart, sweet, good natured, hard working, determined, a veritable superman, but he can't tell that the girl he's dating is a complete witch. Anybody that nice is bound to be unhappy in marriage because nobody will ever be as nice to him. It's a mystery why he seems so happy. He'll eventually catch on and dump her.

I actually received long, unsought and downright nauseating lectures on all that I must do to keep him. Under constant attack, I found myself obliged to declare that I did do nice things for my husband. I'm angry just thinking about it. Not because anyone would be that... [choose your own adjective here] but because I put up with it for as long as I did. I'm angry at me.

I'm getting over it, and so must everyone else. I intend to brag about my husband any time the subject is mentioned and anyone who doesn't like it is welcome to leave. There will be no man-bashing here. There is no one to bash. My husband is awesome!

A dinner 

It's been seven years now and he still hasn't seen the light and dumped me. I wonder if my constant admiration for him has anything to do with it? (Or maybe dinner?) It's probably true that on some level, I don't deserve him. I might be called upon to acknowledge that on some level, he might not deserve me. But I won't. Our imperfections fit together, like those brain puzzles he's so fond of working. Together, we're pretty amazing and since I see him best when we're together, I see perfection.

If anyone wants to get together to brag about their men, I'm in. Better yet, let's write it all down, give it to our husbands with a [whatever thing they like] and see if it doesn't work for another seven years. Or maybe seven hours. Whatever.

Why I Didn't Wait to Have Children

As Latter-Day Saints, we have an interesting culture. We believe in having children, and anytime a couple is newly married, we assume that they want and will have kids. We assume that they will have a child within two years, and probably more than one child at some point. We are not bad people for having these assumptions; they're often based on real life and what we've seen. The problem arises when we carry our assumptions too far, and start telling people they have to fit into a mold based on our expectations.

I have been guilty of this. Based on my perception of today's Latter-Day Saint culture (notice I said culture, not doctrine) I assumed that a  couple who did not announce pregnancy in the early stages of marriage was "waiting".  Boy, was I wrong! They had wanted children from day one and my verbalized assumptions caused them pain. I was told in no uncertain terms to "Mind my own business!"

I was shocked. Everywhere I went, people asked other people when and how many children they planned to have. It was "normal". When I spoke to this couple, I meant to show them that I supported their right to make decisions about their family. I learned something: supporting them is not my job. Short of being their doctor, bishop or therapist, there is no necessity, no reason whatsoever, for thinking about how many children SOMEONE ELSE wants to create and when. I can't think of any righteous purpose that would be served by it.

As Elder Neil L. Andersen told us in October 2011 General Conference,

 When to have a child and how many children to have are private decisions to be made between a husband and wife and the Lord. These are sacred decisions—decisions that should be made with sincere prayer and acted on with great faith.

There you have it. Not only is it not our decision, it is private. And just like all private things, we have no business speculating about them. If  someone voluntarily shares their decision with us, we should be kind, realizing that they have shared something private and sacred, like a testimony.  We are not being called upon to agree or disagree.


I Come From A Large Family

I grew up in a family that believed and taught that birth control was a literal tool of Satan to prevent Heavenly Father's spirit children from gaining bodies. Anyone who "planned" their family using any method other than abstinence was evil or deceived. I don't particularly like that philosophy, not just because there are legitimate and unselfish reasons for preventing pregnancy (severe medical conditions that require heavy medications, for instance,) and not because it is a seriously harsh judgment we are not called upon to make.

I don't like that philosophy because I've seen many instances where people would have a lot of kids--providing bodies for those spirits--and not pay any/enough attention to the raising of them. I don't want to be a judge of these people. I just feel bad for the kids, so often raising, and raised by, their siblings. I was born in such an environment, and while I do not condemn my parents--they were doing the best they knew how--I wished to approach parenting in a different way.

I Really Like Kids

My whole life I wanted kids--lots of kids! My childhood was not all bad and living with eleven siblings had taught me to love children and want a house full of them. I used to shock people for fun by telling them I wanted fifteen children, never being quite sure I'd find a willing husband.(That number has fluctuated a lot over the years.) When my husband and I became engaged, we took the matter very seriously. He came from a family of three and the full-house concept--and budget! frightened him a little. I wanted babies right away, and he wanted to wait a year. We were both in school and working, not making much money. I knew that it was not my decision. It was OURS. We talked about it. We prayed. We went to the temple. I did research on birth control, namely, finding out what it was.

Here's what we learned: God is the Maker and Sender of all spirits. He has commanded us to multiply and replenish the earth so we can rejoice in our posterity. We know that when the Lord commands He also prepares a way. He will not send us more than we can handle, and He will help us all the way through to the end. We made the decision to... do nothing. We left it in His hands. We would not use birth control unless medically necessary and we never have.

It seems crazy sometimes to think of how poor we were, but never wanted for anything. We never went hungry, never had to move back in with our parents, and we had FUN. We have been so blessed, especially through others--strangers sometimes-- who reached out to help. The Lord really has opened and continues to open the way for us. We have both continued our educations and have not been hindered by being parents. And we have rejoiced.

Our children are so sweet and funny and we wish we could have more. Someday...it's still in the Lord's hands. Meanwhile, we are blessed by our two little boys. When they say, "Mommy, I'm happy. We're a family" it melts my heart. When they cover my desk with drawings of superheroes, I feel like the luckiest woman alive. And when they put their arms around my neck and cuddle at bedtime, I know that this is what Heaven was meant to be like. My little bit of Heaven, here on earth.

"Mommy, I'm happy. We're a family."

I hope that everyone gets to feel their bit of Heaven. No matter what happens, though, let us not judge others for waiting, or not waiting; for wanting many or wanting few; for spacing or not spacing. Let us withdraw our minds from the sacred and private decisions of others. The Lord has it covered and no one is more qualified for the job. For my part, I'd rather be rejoicing.