I am six (6) feet tall

I am six (6) feet tall. I remind myself all the time.

As meetings drag on I know that I can draw myself up to my full height, all assured six feet of it, and call them to close. I imagine my seated, awe-struck audience, covetous and cowed.

In reality I may be more like 5’10.5”, but I rock a shock of black, curly hair atop my drawn, thin face. My eyes are set close together like a predator, and my long nose hooks downward, like the fin of a rocket driving the eye skyward to my actual full height of probably more like 5’11”.

There are little tricks you can do to appear taller. For example, if you say it enough, you can be known as “Arik the tall guy…6’ I guess? Yeah he’s not short, that’s for sure!”. This is done by simply reminding people often of your true, 6’, height.

My Tinder bio reads “I am 6’ tall, which I’m sure will meet most height requirements”. So it is settled. Nobody will ever ask me to prove it and, provided I only date Asian women, I’m home clean.

Anyway I’m definitely more like my claimed 6’, because my posture is bad and my head is often bent to the enduring yolk of my Jewish mother and Jewish-ish father. I’m also lanky and favour a Cuban heel, and at 36 years old nobody will ever see me barefoot. So with lifts in my shoes, thick socks, my Jewfro in full splendour, a 5’6” Asian by my side, shoulders back, neck straight, and predator eyes narrowed, I’m absolutely 6’ tall.

This is the first of ten short tales. They’re all about this long.

Let me tell you a story.

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