My mom said that my dad likes this picture because it makes him look thinner, which made me laugh when she told me. I was experimenting with forced perspective with the vague intent of making my parents look taller. I don’t remember when I first surpassed my mom in height, but I’m sure it was an occasion of both celebration and mild chagrin on her part. (I am technically shorter than my dad but often look taller because of my build and penchant for wearing heels.) They were certainly somewhat crestfallen when it appeared that my brother would not grow much more past his current height of 5’8″, and more than once lamented that all of his weight training in football had stunted his growth. (My mother’s understanding of heredity seems to have fossilized at Lamarck.)
In my experience, immigrant Asian parents are almost as obsessed with height as they are about grades and college admissions. (Pandering slightly to stereotypes here, forgive me.) I am quite average compared to the U.S. population, but in the more rarefied circles of Asian-American youth, I am positively Amazonian, in multiple dimensions. This has…not always been a source of delight to me, and I think has a large part to do with why I will almost certainly never date anyone who is shorter or skinnier than me. Which rules out many Asians and hipsters, but I’m going to say that I’m really…quite okay with that. I’ve come to realize over the years that physical compatibility is rather important to me, but I suppose I need to figure out my own sense of space before I let anybody into that figurative and literal space again, and that’s a rather tall order at the moment.