By The Numbers

I always wanted to be taller. I have been punished for being frivolous because I am actually shrinking. Oddly, I never sought to weigh more or have a bigger waist. I would not be a better basketball player even if I were taller. Was I affected by expressions like Tall, Dark and, Handsome? Cowboy boots make me look taller. I tanned myself to a darker color until skin cancer excisions made my face less handsome. I should be going for Healthy, Happy, and Kind but I am too vain for that. Plus Kind ruins the alliteration Handsome would provide. And what about Smart, Humorous, and Rich? Where do those fit in? I should have straightened out my priorities when I was young enough to mold myself into the me I wanted. I still have not lowered my now exaggerated height on my driver’s license and live in fear of being caught in that lie at my next traffic stop. But I also leave my weight higher. Why do I not care about changing the record to the more flattering current weight? Wait. Who cares? I just nodded off while typing. I will get some caffeine while you break into small groups to analyze our obsessions with measurements. Miles per gallon for the car. Square feet of the house. Scores like IQ, SAT, and GPA. Sports are competitive, so we have golf handicaps, batting averages, and race times. Even our days are numbered with life expectancies, blood pressure, and cholesterol levels. This is going to sound weird but I even obsessively check how many visitors like and follow my Blog! Funny how we resent being treated like a number when we define ourselves by numbers.

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