Bring Me the Measuring Stick

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My sister, my mother, and I have always been about the same height. Technically, I'm the shortest. My mother is a smidge taller than I am, and my sister is a bit taller than my mother. Or so it was until this week.

This week, I found out my sister and I have the same weight, which is odd, because she looks thinner than I do. My mom said that's because she's taller. I said, "Not much taller. Like, barely at all." She ordered us to stand back-to-back, and that's when the bizarre discovery happened.

I am taller than both of them now.

This, I believe, is a mutation of some kind. Humans are not supposed to grow at age 29, right? I believe the secret is in the Pringles. Or possibly the brownies.

Whole new possibilities abound. Next year, I may be a giant. I will contemplate learning how to play basketball and pout on the catwalk just in case.

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