Not tall enough for a Rockette (still)

Oddly enough, I haven't known how tall I am for years. Oh, I've known approximately, but not accurately.

You know, there's only so much you can do with a wall, a yardstick, and a pencil, if you don't have a level.

See, a few years back, I was in an automobile accident that totaled both my beloved Datsun and me. I was left with compression fractures of three vertebrae (T7-9). I was told by my doctor that one of the side effects would be that I'd be a little shorter.

Well, I knew what my approximate height was at the time of the accident. As I was curious about shrinkage, I asked my regular doctor to measure me on his handy scale with the measuring thingee. Well, it was broken.

When I was in grad school, I had to go to a rassafrackin' doc in a box. While there, I asked him to measure me on his handy scale with the measuring thingee. Well, according to it, I was over an inch taller than I previously thought. Obviously, it was broken.

My regular doctor retired a couple of years later and I got a new regular doctor. When I finally went into see him (I avoid doctors like the plague), I asked him to measure me on his handy scale with the measuring thingee. Well, it was (yes, you got it) broken.

What was this? A medical conspiracy of measurable proportions?

Anyway, today I took my mother for a fairly routine medical test (she's fine, thanks for asking). While in the medical place, I saw a handy scale with a measuring thingee. I asked a nurse if she could check out my height real quick ... if it's not broken.

Sure.

So I took off my shoes and did the deed.

I'm now officially a shade over 5' 2".