I’m 5’1″. Most people are taller. I’ve been 5’1″ since I was 12. The world is not designed for people of my stature, but for people who are at least 3 inches taller than I am. 3 inches doesn’t seem like much but when it’s about reaching for plates on the top shelf, it’s a big difference.
I know that people in the past were more around my height because old furniture — such as my dry sink from the 1900s — is a very nice height for me to prepare food. It’s about 4 inches lower than my kitchen counters.
I’m not whining. It’s kind of amusing being short. I have a somewhat tall personality because people have very often — after knowing me for months or even years — sometimes suddenly realize that I only come up to their shoulder. “You’re short!” they say in surprise, as if I’d pulled a trick on them.
Tall people will say, “You’re lucky,” as if this is some kind of competition of altitudinal disadvantage. “I can’t even buy jeans long enough! All you have to do is cut yours off!”
Yeah but no one pats tall people on their head (without a step ladder) and says, “You’re so gosh darn cute!” My friend L gave me a beautiful shirt with that saying emblazoned across the front. It’s true. It’s red. It’s informative. It’s a warning. ❤