Jack and the Beanstalk

Things have been a tad quiet around here for reasons pertaining to...any guesses?

You win a free date with Andrew Sullivan if you said "work."

Ha-ha! You have to go out with...

Anyway enough of the silly talk, I'm here to tell you about something extremely important that has happened to me.

I have four vanity wishes that I have always hoped will come true some day: to be funnier, smarter, taller and better looking. It would be unfortunate for you, my readers, if these things materialized, because then I'd stop blogging due to the volume of chicks I'd be managing.

While most of you have been watching the World Cup (haha, watching soccer! LOL!), I've been having a mini-crisis. All of my fitted pants have been fitting awkwardly--the cuffs were barely reaching my shoes. Now, I'm not exactly the most savy housekeeper, as my ability to do laundry usually entails throwing a wad of clothes in the circular thingy, adding soap and pressing the permanent press cycle button. But in the case of my slacks/nice pants, I usually take them to the dry cleaners. So, unless they went to the same laundry school that I went to, chances are my pants haven't shrunk.

I went into my tailor and had him measure my in-seam. Normally I'm a 30, but he measured me at a 31. Strange things were afoot at Men's store.

Couldn't be, could it?

Yep, it could and today it is official. I went to my GP for a physical/annual check-up, and well, I've officially grown into an elite category. I was 5'9 1/4" and now I'm 5'10". I'm 29 years old and somehow my body was able to squeeze that 3/4 of an inch of me. My body has displayed some serious resilience given that it has had to overcome 29 years of gravity. If it wasn't for gravity, hell, I might be 6'4" now.

This fact in-of-itself is astounding, but really, the most important part is that I can now say I'm 5'10". I know that it still technically puts me smack dab in the middle of the "medium-sized" category, but now I'm actually medium-sized plus. There something psychologically pleasing going from 9 to 10. Kind of like, I was a B student, but now I'm a B+ student; it's not going to get you into Harvard (well, maybe if you had a few million behind you), but people are going to start taking notice.

Me: Hey sweet-cheeks, are you enjoying a lovely evening of drinks, sushi and swarming men staring only at your chest?

Sweet-Cheeks: Maybe. How tall are you?

Me: 5 foot 10

Sweet-Cheeks: Ohhhhh, really. Buy me a drink and let's talk.

The unfortunate part of this scenario is that I've only managed to get one of my vanity wishes fullfilled. I'm not smarter, funnier or better looking. So, after about five minutes of trying to get her drunk enough to think I was interesting, she had to "go and do...something else."

That's fine, at least I can get in the door now.

5 foot-frickin' 10. You got that?