It’s one of those things that are a bit meaningless really. But to me, I have always liked being reasonably tall. Yet, even a simple thing like this can depress me. I am a smidge over 6ft tall – 1.835m.

Once a month for the past few years I have been marking out my height on the doorframe of this room with a pen. The results are rather disappointing to me… it really looks like I haven’t grown in four years, and if I have, it’s no more than half a centimetre.

This is really annoying because I used to be one of the tallest people. It seems I really must have finished growing at the age of 15, and yet, I don’t remember ever going through a growth spurt. Maybe I just started earlier than everyone else. I really thought I’d keep on growing… I was clinging on to something I remember in my biology text book from when I was 11 which told me that “By the end of puberty at around age 18, males end up close to their adult height” – which implied more height to come.

What a letdown! 🙂

It’s just another one of those things that point out to me I’m not a kid any more. I’d really hoped to gain another inch or two. It’s nicer being tall!

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