My new neighbour came over, in need of paracetemol. (Yes, he’s a finalist too.)
He spotted my OK! magazine on the side.
–Sanjay: “Sam! Why on EARTH are you reading OK!?”
–Me: “Well … you know … philosophy, politics … er, um … sometimes I need a break!”
–Sanjay: “No – I meant, why not Heat?”
New friend. Instantly.
I am devastated.
The Observer on Sunday tells me that my height of five feet and seven inches is – bang on – average. Yes, women today are typically between 5′ 5″ and 5′ 9″ tall. So not only am I average, but I’m the average-est average, right in the middle.
What a blow. I thought I was tall! Perhaps it’s because I used to be. Has this pink lady gone cuckoo, I hear you ask? Not quite. I’ve been this height since I was eleven, so people always called me that. Then, it seems, the other b*ggers decided to grow tall too.
Maybe that’s it. We’re not all average: no, we’re just all tall.
P.S. Perhaps the more devastating news is that the average man is only 5′ 5″-5′ 11″. Ruined my tea break, anyway.
