Don’t Listen To Me

24 Jan
Stanley and Livingstone

Stanley and Livingstone (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I was telling the Hub about Dianne’s comment yesterday that she had thought he was over six foot tall from the way I write about him.  We had a good chuckle because he is 5’6″.

I am 5’2″ and not happy about it, as I told you three years ago.  I used to be 5′ until the Hub measured Spud’s height one day.  At that time he was 5′ which was weird, because he was shorter than me.

I have always been 5′ tall (since I reached 5′, anyway) and rather like it. Think of Kylie Minogue and you get the idea of how dainty I am. Or was, twenty-eight years ago. Now I’m 5′ wide as well: a sort of Kylie-squared.


Shocked (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Only, I am not 5′ small after all, despite what it says in my passport. The tape measure proved it: I am 5’2″. No more standing on the third step up to the back garden that backed onto my childhood back garden to kiss 6′ tall boyfriends for me (though the Hub might have something to say about that, anyway; so perhaps it’s just as well).

My problem was that I had always believed myself to be a certain height and then I discovered that was not so.  I was anxious that the Police might take me away in the night and electrocute my testicles with passion fruit (sorry if that doesn’t make sense; I had a sleepless night worrying about it) for making a false declaration on my passport.

Imagine if you were a girl and you had always been a girl and it says on your passport that you’re a girl and then somebody measures you against your child one day – a child that you lovingly carried, birthed, reared and gained weight for, the miserable little turncoat – and they tell you that, oops, it’s a mistake and you are actually a boy. I think you’d be as hysterical as I was, wouldn’t you? My image of myself as diminutive was irrevocably altered – I can no longer ask strangers in the supermarket to pass me the tofu* on the top shelf or get Tory Boy to dust the parts my little arms cannot reach; they’ll just laugh and tell me to ‘Get it yourself, Lofty.’

*If it’s true that I am tall then it’s true that I am a healthy eater as well.

The Hub obviously didn’t think things through when he told me the alleged truth about myself.  He likes dainty women, which is why he roughed me up and bundled me into a wedding carriage all those years ago. He was six inches taller than me then: tall enough to make me feel protected but not so tall that I needed to wear a neck brace after canoodling with him. We had to re-think our whole relationship once I became a giant.

Colorized title card from Dopey Dicks.

Colorized title card from Dopey Dicks. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

He tried to soothe my understandable fury by blaming my Dad – who would have been the one to measure me for my passport – for making a mistake. This did calm me down because my Dad was a bit dopey (where do you think I get it from?) and it is a plausible theory. BUT – and it’s a big but, as you can see – I remembered that my Dad didn’t measure me for my passport because he was in South Africa at the time; I was still in the UK.

That made me doubly angry at the Hub – he shattered my self-esteem and besmirched the good name of the best Dad who ever lived at the same time. That’s a good enough excuse to throw food at him, I think. Excuse me a moment…

…that feels better.

Spud said I should look on the bright side: I am no longer an official midget.  I should be grateful for small mercies.

But I digress.  I mentioned the context (boasting about his exploits in Africa) to the Hub of his mythical size.  It appears I got some facts wrong:

  • The source of the Nile and where Stanley and Livingstone met are not the same place.  The source of the Nile is in Uganda.  However, the Hub did make sure to get there.  I got my stories and my African countries confused.
    Description unavailable

    Description unavailable (Photo credit: rosshuggett)

  • The Stanley/Livingstone spot marked by the rock is in Burundi but the Hub didn’t swim in a crocodile-infested river.  However, he did paddle in it.  I got my water levels confused.
  • The Hub did not force me to marry him.  However, I’m not sure I believe that one.  He has me all confused.  

Amazingly, not one of my readers picked me up on the first error.  You are either a wonderfully uncritical audience or as bad at history and geography as I am.  I prefer to believe it’s the former.  Thank you.  

To conclude, a word of advice: I don’t listen to the Hub; don’t you listen to me.  I don’t know my Africa from my apogee.  


42 Responses to “Don’t Listen To Me”

  1. vivinfrance January 24, 2013 at 11:01 #

    At least you grew: what are you whinging about – I’m shrinking by the day, and having to re-adjust to being a midget.


  2. viveka January 24, 2013 at 11:01 #

    Tilly, you know … it’s not size that matters .. it’s what we do with it.


  3. faydanamyjake January 24, 2013 at 11:13 #

    I am 5’2 and hubby is 6’2 dancing does not go too well but the rest is fine lol


  4. jmgoyder January 24, 2013 at 12:34 #

    Oh you are so funny! I just had a birthday and thought I was 55, not 54!


  5. bluebee January 24, 2013 at 12:52 #

    Never could remember much history.

    Two weeks ago, at the Melbourne Museum, I, too, discovered that I’m taller than I’ve always believed. And a few years go, when I returned to Sydney after 2 years in Perth, a close friend was mortified to find that I’d “grown” taller than her while I’d been away. All we could think is that, due to the fact that I had been walking up to 8kms a day along the beach, the spaces between my spinal vertebrae had expanded 🙆


  6. bevchen January 24, 2013 at 13:07 #

    I’m utterly useless at geography! So no, I didn’t notice your error.


  7. sharechair January 24, 2013 at 13:34 #

    Every time I visit the doctor and he measures my height, I get shorter. 😦


  8. McGuffyAnn January 24, 2013 at 13:37 #

    I rather like being 5’2″, eyes of blue…as the song goes. You’re funny!


  9. mairedubhtx January 24, 2013 at 14:39 #

    I always thought I was 5’3″ for a long time until I discovered I was taller than my mother, who was 5’3″ (before menopause and she started shrinking). When I measured, I was 5’4 1/2.” I had grown 1 1/2″ after college. Must have been all that good food I was cooking as a young married wife. Or something. Anyway, I grew. I’m still 5’4 1/2″ even after menopause. Haven’t shrunk yet.


  10. Laurie Nichols January 24, 2013 at 14:54 #

    I’m the opposite. I thought that I was 5′ 7″ but I’m really only 5’6″ now perhaps 5’6 and 1/2″ and I’m not happy because alongside my French family I’m a midget and I always wanted to be tall so when at the tender age of 11 when I had big feet I thought that I was going to be very tall and that turned out to be a wishful hope, that’s it. I am an average height lady with big feet. Oh well can’t have everything.


  11. misswhiplash January 24, 2013 at 17:44 #

    from one confused kid to another..only you are shorter…I loved it …it doesn’t take a lot to confuse me so well done ..I got confused


  12. cindy January 24, 2013 at 17:47 #

    I’m also 5’2; we’re a very special lot, we are.


  13. robincoyle January 24, 2013 at 21:13 #

    Dear Formerly Short Person,

    Maybe your back pain is really caused by growing pains.


    Stately Goddess at 5′ 6″


  14. idiosyncratic eye January 24, 2013 at 22:09 #

    I know the confusion. I’ve always been five foot one and three quarters. A giant in my family. Then somewhere in my twenties I made five foot three. I am no longer petite. 😦


  15. Amba Nair January 24, 2013 at 23:31 #

    It is absolutely impossible to read your posts without laughing. Tilly, you may now revoke my Malteser privileges. I think my 5 feet “no inches” mom’s happiest moments in life were when my brother and I outgrew her. She always feared we would be midgets, not that that’s necessarily a bad thing. I always feel like a giant (I’m only 5’5 mind you) when I’m around my mom’s family where the average height is 4 feet 9 inches, I kid you not!


    • vivinfrance January 25, 2013 at 08:49 #

      My Mum and my Dad were both short, and when | complained about always being the shortest girl in the class, she used to say “You don’t get rats from mice”!


    • Tilly Bud - The Laughing Housewife January 25, 2013 at 08:51 #

      Dear Giant, your Maltesers are safe because I am always delighted to know people laugh in here. It’s the personal compliments that have me blushing.

      That’s one short family. Your mother must feel huge next to them 🙂


  16. Pseu January 25, 2013 at 23:35 #

    You look pretty small from up here….


  17. benzeknees January 26, 2013 at 09:55 #

    Have a malteser, it will make you feel better! I am getting shorter (with age) & you are growing? Maybe you had a growth spurt?


  18. Grannymar January 30, 2013 at 20:20 #

    There are good goods in short parcels!


  19. eof737 February 1, 2013 at 13:38 #

    Wishes granted! 😆



  1. 3 Things You & I Can Learn from Successful Bloggers « So You Think You Can Think - January 27, 2013

    […] funny stories from her own life. An example of her quirky sense of humor can be found in the post, “Don’t Listen To Me”.  She has the rare ability to laugh at herself. This makes her/ her blog seem more real and […]


I welcome your comments but be warned: I'm menopausal and as likely to snarl as smile. Wine or Maltesers are an acceptable bribe; or a compliment about my youthful looks and cheery disposition will do in a pinch.

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