I’m a tall man; not excessively tall, but nicely tall. I’m the kind of tall Goldilocks would want, if she was looking for tall; tall enough to reach things from high shelves, but not so tall that a circus owner is going to try to dress me in a leopard skin loin cloth and call me Gigantosaur, The World’s Tallest Man from the Jungles of Darkest Africa (which is a relief not least because I think the phrase “Darkest Africa” may well be quite quite racist). “Wow!” you’re no doubt thinking to yourself right now, “how lucky Silas is! I wish I were nicely tall! It’d make going to gigs far more enjoyable, not being stuck standing behind some burly fellow I can’t see around or over!” Ah, my dear diminutive reader, if only things were always so rosy in the land of the over sized. For one thing, we of above average height can almost never fit comfortably in bus seats. Also, the bitterness of the wee folk at their unlucky genetics is often directed unfairly at those of us who tower above them. On more than one occasion, I have been angrily berated, kicked in the shin, and even bitten on the knees by a wee folk, simply because they couldn’t be bothered to arrive early enough at a concert to get a spot at the front, and felt that I had somehow personally wronged them. Good grief, wee folk! If you will insist on being tardy to a concert, bring a step ladder! To fail to prepare is to prepare to fail!
A thought occurs though, and be warned that if you continue to read this paragraph, your mind may be completely blown, and you may find yourself trippin’ balls: Ok, people come in different sizes, fairly obvious and simple. Clothes and shoes also come in different sizes, so as to fit the different sized people; still all making sense? But garments of different sizes are all sold at the same price, even though the bigger sizes require more material, and so should be more expensive to make. Smaller sized garments are so more expensive per unit of material. Thus, when the wee folk buy clothes, they are, to a degree, subsidising myself and my tall brethren’s clothes buying! If I were to buy a shirt, and a wee fellow were to buy a matching shirt (as trend setter and style icon, I have this happen more often than you might think), his comparatively higher purchase price is helping to subsidise my comparatively lower price! He’s buying some of my shirt for me! HOLY CRAP! Remember my warning at the start of this paragraph? Yeah! I told you!
Now, no doubt some wee folk are going to get all up in my shins about how this is just proof that us brobdingnagians do indeed have it easier, but think about it; this isn’t just some accident of fate or genetics. This is something that’s put into practice by businesses right across society, with zero complaint. Obviously, this is society’s way of recognising the inherent hardships being tall and the inherent easiness of life for the wee folk, and attempting, in some small way, to compensate for this hideous imbalance. The system may not be perfect, but sometimes it does work.
As someone who is neither tall nor short but has a fabulous waist, I resent subsidising the greater-girthed. Those extra euro could be spent on rum-soaked books.
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