“The boys and I measured our torsos and legs,” I tell Karen, ” and I still have the smallest torso to leg ratio. I’m a long-legged freak, but Riley is a close second. He might beat me in the end.”
“I have never met a family who measures their body parts the way you people do.”
We measure things around here, and Riley’s recent growth spurt–all in his legs and arms–prompted a new round. We’ve measured ears (Jake has the biggest), measured shoulder width (Riley wins), we’ve measured our biceps (I’m a metalworking mutant), wingspan (call me monkey girl), lips, eyes (Matt’s are huge), noses, heads. Often we measure out of curiosity, sometimes to assuage fears.
Jake was convinced one ear was freakishly larger than the other. It’s not. I was positive my lips were shrinking AND THEY TOTALLY ARE. Soon I will have no lips left at all, and small children will point and cry when Katie The Lipless Wonder walks by. It’ll be so sad.
I’m surprised others don’t do this. When you worry that gravity has tugged your breasts far from their original position, how can measuring their proximity to your shoulders bring you any peace at all when you haven’t been measuring all along? Doesn’t everyone do this?
Measuring lets me let go of a few of my neuroses, and let me tell you, every little bit helps.