I remember watching the movie Gattaca and taking particular note of the scene where Ethan Hawke assumes the identity of someone else, in part, by undergoing a painful surgery in order to enhance his genetically inferior height. That seemed worth it to me: suffer short-term torture in exchange for an extra three or four inches? To rise out of the ranks (as it were) of the 5’8”, where men in a power and status conscious society are doomed to linger in a twilight limbo? Sign me up.
5’8” isn’t 5’0”, of course, and I’m not saying that it is. But it’s enough that many people see through you instead of at you: their internal sensors are tuned to register, say, 5’10” and above. It’s enough that I was never cast as the leading man in high school musicals, only as sidekick comic relief. It’s enough that I sometimes find myself pinned against the back of elevators while a wall of suit-covered shoulders barricades the space in front of me.
I ruled out surgery in almost the same millisecond that I entertained the idea. What kind of surgery lengthens your legs but keeps the rest of your body proportions the same? That would look ridiculous. Imagine trying to flex your newfound height and social dominance to land a dream job. You’d stand up to say goodbye to your interviewer:
“Thanks for your time and I look forward to hearing from you soon.”
“Uh...say. Are you standing on stilts?”
“No, those are my legs.”
“But they’re about three fourths of your entire body. Come on, you’re standing on stilts.”
”I’m not standing on stilts.”
And that would be that. If there’s anything worse than short people losing their cool, it’s tall people. Tall people are supposed to exude an air of quiet authority. This is why I don’t trust would-be presidential candidate Fred Thompson:
The guy is 6’6” and he always looks like he’s on the verge of donning purple shorts and running berserk through downtown Manhattan. If I were 6’6” I’d be a prophet of peace, not a harbinger of hate. My acolytes would flock to me and say “Why, yes, we Palestinians and Israelis should work out our differences. We know that what you say is true, because you are tall.”
I have other options, of course. I could act like other men I know who are less than average height. They never joke. They rarely smile. Their skin is stretched tight across their face in a perennial scowl, and they move from point to point with an cold, eerie intensity as they seek to accumulate power and respect that will...well, elevate them. This is how they live, and they won’t stop until they make the mistake of trying to invade Russia.
I have no interest in that, and I probably wouldn’t want surgery anymore even if it didn’t make me look hideous. The fact is, I’m using to slipping around and through people in crowds. I’m used to sitting in airplane seats and having a cushion of space no matter who sits next to me. I’m used to being able to go unnoticed when I need to, almost invisible, like a pint-sized ninja. I’m a compact car, fast and agile; I’d be a staggering, ungainly mess if I suddenly became an SUV.
Still, on special occasions, it might be nice if it suddenly became the fashion for guys to wear heels.
We measure your stature by your wit and intellect. By that measure, you rank with the tallest. And, if Howard Dean had Fred Thompson’s voice, he’d be President now, and we’d have invaded China instead of Iraq.
P.S. Think cowboy boots
I’m agreeing with Papa Goose here about the wit and intellect and cowboy boots. Also, it once was the fashion for men to wear heels. But they also powdered their hair. Not thinking the look would be good for you. For anyone.
I’m sorry you missed the heels memo, I fwd’d you a copy back in 1984.
Fun to hear a male perspective of shortness. 5’8” isn’t SO short...I clock in at 5’0” myself (my dad, a whopping 5’4"). If you’re not comfortable in man heels, you could always just try wearing a fox skin shrug and a tiara. It works for me. Trust me, no one ignores you when you have a taxidermied fox hanging from your shoulders.
Wit and intellect, be damned. I love you for your pint-sized ninja body.
I am 5’3”, and my husband is 6’. If I ever by the grace of God find myself in a position to select again from the gene pool, I will not even look at anyone over 5’9”.
P.S. Go to Hawaii when you are feeling “pint-sized.”
The last guy I dated looked me right in the eyes and I am 5 foot 7. I saw his Myspace page - it says he is 5 foot 10. Heightening!
I can’t stand people who lie about their height. I do, however, take pains to point out that I’m 5’8” and a HALF. The tiara also seems promising, as cows scare me and therefore boots are out.
As a 6’ tall woman, I have to say I like shorter men. They’re easier to distract.
if cowboy boots are out maybe Gene Simmons’ boots are in?
I think the answer is not to lengthen one’s legs but to have one’s forehead heightened, which I have accomplished by allowing mine to extend from my eyebrows to the nape of my neck. Apply at your discretion. Alternatively, consider 80’s hair, if you’ve got the goods to carry it off.
And if being tall were all it really took to get respect, I’d be lobbying the offices of senator Howard Stern. And by “lobbying,” I mean “hanging around outside watching the strippers wandering in and out.” I wonder how he’d feel about being bicameral?
I read somewhere that Dog, the bounty hunter from cable television is something like 5’6” and has custom made boots that make him 5’10”
I should buy a pair of those.
BTW, at 5’8”, we’re the exact same height as Mel Gibson and substantially taller than Tom Cruise.
Wow, my Uma theory is really holding up this week. (I realize you didn’t mention her, but she’s obviously implied).
tall people don’t have the benefit of all that self-defense practice us shorties get from being mistaken for an aisle in a crowd. you might think a big guy would be good backup, but nothing beats a pint-sized ninja in a bar fight.