Then, in a conversation, it came up that Robert DeNiro is short. WTF? No!!! I couldn't accept that, I mean, in my fantasies, I can wear heels when I'm with him. It was so unfair. I wanted to cry.
Then I got to thinking. How many other objects of my lustful affection aren't as tall in life as they are in my mind? Well, I'll tell you, because if I'm going to be disillusioned, so the hell will all of you. Eminem? He is 5'8" so is it any wonder that 8 Mile sucked at making me happy? Art Alexakis is 5'10" which is better. Robert DeNiro is five feet, nine and a half inches...I guess I could wear low heels, but, not being able to bring out the FMPs will be a serious downer in my dreams. Finally though, I came across Charles Shaugnessy...who is just a half inch shy of that six foot marker. Guess who just replaced Robert DeNiro as my number one?
So, why am I tripping over the fact that these famous men that I'll never meet aren't tall? Surely it must be because I hear all the time how much I look like Mariah...NOT. I guess the reason is, because I'm not dead...yet. I may still be the first person to die from sleep deprivation though, the night is still young, and so are my children.
I leave you now to succumb to the lilting sound of the Brit's voice calling from the television upstairs.
If you are wondering what is up (no pun intended) with my height issues...it is pretty simple. Just about everyone I'm related to is short. This is in and of itself not much of a big deal. Unless you spend years as the headless Amazon in photos. After a few decades of being surrounded by people that make you feel like Hagrid amongst the students of Hogwarts, you start to really appreciate being around taller people, because they make you feel little and dainty...and that is a welcome change indeed.
I love short people, don't get me wrong...but, in my fantasies, I am *not* headless.