Size Matters.

I pride myself on being a tall girl. I mean, I'm not super-model tall, but I'm taller than average. Always have been. I mean, I'm around 5'7", which isn't anything special, except I've pretty much been this tall since, like, eighth grade. I got really tall really fast growing up, and I was always one of the tallest in my class.

But sometime this past summer, my brother Logan got taller than me.

It doesn't sound like a big deal, I know. BUT IT IS. I know guys are generally taller than girls. I KNOW. But that doesn't make the fact that my little brother is now taller than me any better. I swear, yesterday I was kickboxing his ass across the loft. (I'm not even joking. That actually happened.) Once upon a time, I could take him DOWN. HARD.

I was becoming accustomed to the fact that he was going to end up taller than me and that was that, until I came back for Christmas this year, and lo and behold, Logan is taller than DAD now. Which puts Logan at around 5'11", Dad at 5'10", Mom at 5'8" (give or take) and me at... 5'7".

Yeah. I'm the shortest one in the family. How wrong is THAT?