The Measure of A Man
Posted by Exile on February 26, 2009
We had a bit of fun at work today. It started out seriously enough in that we needed to take measurements of a crate due for shipment. For some strange and inexplicable reason, the team’s tape rule was nowhere to be found. One of my guys, being the helpful type spoke up saying not to worry, he had an ordinary tape measure that he uses for his photography hobby somewhere in his bag. He usually carries his camera with him everywhere. Ok then, out with it and on with the job. Job done, measurements duly noted and paperwork sorted out, we returned to our normal working activity. On a Thursday, that usually isn’t too strenuous as the first three days of the week are hell on earth and we can generally take a bit of a breather by the fourth. And so it began.
We now had a tape measure to play with. And play we did. We measured our arms, both for length and girth. Then our legs. Across our shoulders and from earhole to earhole over the tops of the heads. Our noses. The distance between our eyes. Circumference of our heads. The spread of our hands. There eventually had to be a little competition involved so we measured each other for reach from finger tip to finger tip while standing in the crucifix position. And then the same from toe tip to toe tip. It’s amazing just how far one can spread ones legs without actually doing the splits. We were giggling like schoolgirls.
Finally, of course, we measured waist and chest. It was then that I found out that my body has reached absolute and perfect harmony.
This was a bit of revelation but, as I have always regarded myself as being a harmonic type, I was neither shocked nor bothered by the final confirmation. How have I achieved this absolute zen condition? Well, it’s very simple really.
I weigh 110 kilograms and my waist measures 110 cm. I am, metrically speaking, perfection personified.
I am, in some strange way, as heavy as I am round. Dali Lama, beware.