Growing up, I never thought of myself as a short person. I'm the tallest of my sisters. I'm taller than my mom. In fact, until extra-long-length jeans came into style, I fervently wished to be a few inches shorter.
Then I married Joe. Almost everyone in his family is significantly taller than I am. And now I can easily buy jeans with a 35" inseam. So the 'tall or short' thing hasn't really concerned me for several years. But today, while trying to make strawberry milk for one of the munchkins and no tall, dark and handsome hero to come to my rescue I realized that I might not be so tall, after all.
Oh, you actually wanted pictures of Shorty McSmittens?
Yes, thank you, I believe I will go kiss him on the lips.