Shrinkage

Lately, I feel short.

I’m not short, in fact, I’m plenty tall for a lady.  Also, I’m usually wearing heels because I enjoy being even taller.  But all these facts don’t change the simple fact that I can’t reach anything anymore.

At first, I suspected my husband was to blame.  He is a good bit taller than me, and tends to put things higher and further back on shelves than they really need to be.  After all, he’s not going to have to climb onto a chair to reach the brown sugar, now, is he?  Of course, he’s exponentially less likely to be the one to need to reach the brown sugar, so this seems like a dirty trick.  He, of course, denies any shelf conspiracy.  Realistically, I have to acknowledge that my shelves, in fact, are exactly the same height they’ve always been, and all the things I store on them are still the same, so there’s something else at play.

Then I thought, maybe it’s just a perspective issue.  My son recently had an alarming growth spurt and he’s inching up on me in a disarming way.  It’s one thing to know that your kid will eventually be taller than you, but it’s a whole other thing to watch it happening.  So I am feeling shorter since I don’t get to properly tower over my children any more and literally have to contort my baby to kiss the top of his head.  But, no.  That’s an issue, to be sure, but it doesn’t explain why I can’t reach things.

Then it happened.  I was in the grocery store alone and I needed something on the top shelf.  I suddenly remembered all the times ladies in the grocery store have asked Hubs to get something of the top shelf for them and I thought how sweet it was of him to help the poor tiny short ladies.  What the world.  When did I become a poor tiny little short lady?  I, of course, not being the type to ask for help, managed to get my groceries, but not without a good bit of effort that probably caused no shortage of entertainment on the security video.

It’s now clear to me what’s happening.  I’m shrinking.  I don’t know what witchcraft is at play, but I surely do wish that if someone had cursed me to be smaller, it would be more in the area of the waistline.  Just can’t catch a break…