Unintended Shrinking

While I was weighing in on the old doctor's scale, I played around with the height ruler that extends frome the scale pole. Then I stopped playing and checked three more times. Then I ran home and got my 16 year-old to measure me against the bathroom door frame. The verdict remained unchanged: 5'4.1", meaning I have shrunk 1½ inches!

As my teenager blithely informed me, men lose an inch every 30 years, so at 50 I am perfectly average. Yeah, thanks a lot, kid! You try to have a statistic ripped from you that's been your loyal friend ever since puberty, a height which stood by you steadfast and unchanging even as your width violently careened out of control and back again. Wait… oh no… my weight!

I ran to the computer and recomputed my BMI. Sure enough, my universe had been knocked off it's axis once again. At 5.5½, I was looking at a BMI of 22.2… but my newly calculated " height" bumped me up to 23.1! No fair! I didn't do anything wrong, officer!

Now I'm not going to get myself seriously out of joint about this, considering that before surgery 2½ years ago I had a 47 BMI to my name, but still, something of a bummer, no? I suppose I have to find me some serious stretching excercizes, right? Really, though: does this mean I'm calcium deficient, or what. How do you contend with unintended - and unwelcome - shrinking?