Her Worshipfulness told me I should not post this picture, as it depicts me as being fat.
I’ve always had a bit of trouble visualizing my own size. As a teenager, I wondered why my shirts were all sized as “XL” when they clearly were made to fit normal-sized people. In college I would often be referred to as skinny or by the proper name “Slim”, and didn’t really get why. After I got a desk job, people who wanted to ask me for fifty-seven cents so they could get downtown attracted my attention by calling me “big guy”, another epithet I never agreed with.
Apparently, I believe myself to be the one person on terra firma who is “normal-sized”, and everyone else is either short or tall, diminutive or large. Sources would point to me being bigger than most people, and I’m just starting to catch on. So, if I inadvertantly crush you as I walk by, my mammoth stride spanning valleys and my head somewhere where the air is thin and crisp, cut me some slack. After all, you’re the short one.