If I had to pick one thing to distinguish me from the rest of my immediate family, it would be my height. Sure, 5’5 seems pretty average; not too tall, not to short. Until you step foot into my house… Growing up with a father of 6’4 and a mother of 6 ft. I’ve felt pretty short in comparison to them. Especially when my dad would frequently call me ‘Shorty’ when I couldn’t reach something in the pantry, or put away the towels on the top shelf. Not only that, my younger sister has been mistaken to be older than me due to my lack of a few inches. All throughout our younger years we have rivaled with our height. “I’m taller!” “No, I’m taller!” Then one day she kind of just sprung up… Not to mention my brother of 10 years of age is just a head shorter than I am. So when I do his hair, he has to shrink down a bit so I can style his hair just right. So that just leaves my oldest sibling, and well, she’s always been a good 5 inches taller, so we don’t really have any funny stories there. But yeah, that’s the daily life of little ‘ole me.