I've shrunk.

I used to wish I was shorter. Now, I am. It's made me reflect on a childhood spent wanting to disappear and an adulthood spent wanting to be more visible.

I went to the hospital for an appointment last week and a nurse asked to measure my height and weight. I took my shoes off, positioned my back carefully against the stadiometer, straightening out my spine, and felt the head plate gently lower down.

Five foot six, she said loudly, noting it down.

Five foot six? I’m five foot seven and a half, I thought. Al…