Today I saw a research participant who was quite a jolly woman. I remembered testing her in our previous session and getting along with her very well. We talked about many important issues today, such as shoes and Swiffer sweepers (I must admit, I am gifted at the art of small talk).
We go into my little research office and one of the first things I did was record her height measurement. This participant had shrunk by 1 inch since her last visit, and even more discouraging in her mind was the loss of two inches over the course of three years. Now, I don't like frowns so I attempted to turn it upside with a few words of consolation. I told her that being short was, indeed, very useful and proceeded to tell her the benefits, as if I were selling "shortness" to her.
First of all, short is cute, generally speaking. Secondly, finding a boyfriend can be a bit easier as boys tend to have height complexes. Lastly, it is much easier to eavesdrop on important conversations without being noticed when short.
However, my pitch was unsuccessful today. The participant told me with a smile on her face, "The older I get the shorter I am and the closer I come to my grave."
Now, before I go to sleep I ask a question to the void: am I alone in my affection for petiteness?