5'5", big heart, bigger humor. A lighthearted look at body image, fitness, and learning to like what you see.

Body type and body shaming have both been the pebble in my boot for as long as I can remember. Except I don’t wear boots. The particular burr in my saddle has always been height and weight — and that ever-pesky BMI chart that insists on ranking me somewhere between “solidly built” and “potential earthquake risk.”

At 5’5” and currently tipping the scales at 275, I’m proud to say that’s a drop from 325 just a year ago. That’s progress, not perfection, and I’ll take that in a heartbeat. I get my steps in, I close all my rings on my Fitness app (which feels oddly judgmental when I don’t), and I start each day with fruit, yogurt, and chia seed smoothies (sometimes with avocado and/or spinach-yum!). I’ve even cut back on sweets, most of them. Progress, people. Not sainthood!

But here’s where the mirror and I don’t quite agree: I don’t see what others see. Sure, I’ve been told I’m getting “more distinguished” with age, which I suspect is the polite way of saying “gray and gravitationally challenged.” Yet when I catch a photo of myself, I can’t help but feel like Lord Farquaad if he’d been yanked off his noble steed in Shrek. My dad was 6’6”, my mom was 4’10”, and somehow, I got stuck with the short straw, or in this case, the short genes.

I’ll admit it:  I've always been drawn to taller women. Maybe it’s a self-esteem thing, maybe it’s a subconscious “reaching for greater heights” thing. Either way, the irony doesn’t escape me.

And speaking of irony — I remember when Meghan Trainor burst onto the scene with her anthem of body positivity: “It’s all about that bass.” Finally, someone was celebrating curves! Then a few years later, there she was in a State Farm commercial looking lean, luminous, and model-fit. There goes my potential role model… right under the radar, or should I say, right under the weight scale.

But here’s the truth I’ve come to learn (and am still learning): our worth doesn’t come from a chart, a number, or how we measure up next to anyone else. Progress, whether it’s a lost pound, a healthier breakfast, or just a kinder inner voice, is still progress.

I may never look like Arnold in Twins, but I’m learning to appreciate my inner DeVito. He’s funny, resilient, confident, and unapologetically himself. That’s the kind of strength I want to have. So, if you’re like me —measuring your progress not just in pounds or inches but in patience and perseverance —take heart. Keep going. Laugh at the absurdity of it all. And remember, even Lord Farquaad had a kingdom to rule.

Some days the scale wins. Some days I do. Most days I just try to laugh, close my fitness rings, and remind myself that progress doesn’t always show up in photos. Height I can’t control — humor I choose.