Growing up, I figured I would probably get to 5’8 or so. Respectable size. Choice of small or medium shirt, depending on the tone I wanted to give off. Small: I’m tough/Medium: I’m tough, yet casual. Unfortunately for me, I’m done at 5’4. I don’t even hit the 5’4 mark on most rulers. It’s really my dad’s fault–he should’ve swallowed his pride and married a woman of equal/greater height. With my mom being 5’1 (and shrinking daily as she ages), I was invariably doomed from the start.
But really, being short isn’t bad at all. There’s just one thing I’ve yet to come to terms with: t-shirt sizes. You’ve surely noticed that XXL and above will run you an extra $2 when buying a run-of-the-mill t-shirt. But why the fuck should I pay the same as some fat motherfucker who needs a large? There is certainly a discrepancy in material used, perhaps as much as 45%. The whole world’s against me, and there’s nothing to do but give the deadbeat cashier tramp a scornful look as I watch my Hanes ring up at $5.99, while peering over to the next counter, where a 5’8 200 pounder, diabetes and heart disease affiliate, gets his XL for the same price.