As if I didn't complain about my body enough in my blog entry "Hormone Schmormone," I have one more corporeal feature to gripe about: my height.

 My dissatisfaction stems not so much from my actual height, but rather from the fact that, being from family of fairly tall individuals, I feel like I was completely gyped. How is it that, with parents who are both 5'10", a sister who is 5'7", and a brother who is 6'2", I grew to stand a mere 5 feet 5 inches? Granted, that's an inch taller than your average American female, but still! No fair!

I always joke that I got some of the worst genes I could have gotten: I got the hairy gene (probably from my mom's side, being that she's 100% Italian), I got the big cheek gene (father's side), I got the terrible-at-math gene (no idea how this happened), and I got the large breasts gene (Italian side again--I could write an entire blog about my love-hate relationship with my breasts, but I'll leave it at that for now). However, the thing that bothers me most of all is my height.

Freud would likely say that my insecurity about my height is my mother's fault. Standing 5'10", she is an inch taller than your average American male and, after she was widowed at 36, she had trouble finding dates who 1.) didn't mind that she had 3 young kids and 2.) were taller than her. So growing up I would often hear her making jokes about short men, but it wasn't just my mom. Everyone seems to have a height...