You wake up the next morning with a jaw-cracking yawn. Sunlight peeks through the blinds on your window. It looks like mid-morning; you slept nearly twelve hours!
Blinking lazily, you try to build up some shock at sleeping so much, but you just feel too good. Warm and content, wrapped up tight in a blanket cocoon. You feel an odd, powerful desire to stretch, and turn your slight shrug at the urge into a full shoulder-roll. Wriggling in your blankets, you roll your neck and arch your back, flexing from your chest along your stomach and back, straining along your legs and ending in a hard flex of your feet. You feel a cool breeze as your blanket rides up a bit as you move.
You start as you hear your dad knock on your bedroom door.
"You up?" He calls out softly. "Thought I heard you moving."
"Mmm." You mumble loudly, wriggling your toes.
"You slept like a log!" Your dad called out at a louder volume. "I figured if you want to spend all Saturday asleep, more free time for me!" He laughed. "Anyway, I thought we'd hit up the mall for some new shoes, maybe hit the food court."
"Sounds good!" You answer with more enthusiasm, as your stomach gives a gurgle.
Well, you have gone half a day without eating!
Your dad heads off down the hall as you roll your way out of your blankets. He had a point, you think to yourself; you're a pretty active guy, so sleeping all day isn't usually your idea of a fun weekend. Then again, you're pretty sure you read once that people do most of their growing when asleep.
You pause as you gather some fresh clothes, curious. You think you remember someone saying that people are always tallest right after waking up; something about spine compression. Shrugging a bit (still that weird urge to stretch) you amble over to your door.
In the frame, ending around chin height, are a bunch of pencil marks. The highest reads "10 years old: 4'9." You'd always been on the shorter side for your age, and you remember getting self conscious when you started middle school and refusing to keep marking your height. Still, maybe if you were a late-bloomer after all, it'd be fun to keep track.
Grabbing a pencil and a ruler, you quickly slide flat-footed against the frame and mark a new dash. You feel a bit embarrassed at the idea of asking your dad for a tape measure, but a little extra work with the ruler does the trick. With a slight huff, you write up the new information, "16 years old: 5'5." Well, so much for playing with those six-foot varsity guys, they were officially "head and shoulders" taller than you.
Still, with how much you were eating and sleeping....and they also say guys grow feet first right?
You look down at your feet, giving your toes another wriggle. They maybe looked bigger? It's hard to tell, you don't exactly spend a lot of time paying attention.
Seized by an odd impulse, you quickly slap the ruler next to your foot and give it a measure. Eleven inches...maybe a little less. You figured a full grown foot was probably supposed to be...well, a foot. That would make sense. So maybe you didn't have giant mega-feet, or whatever. Didn't mean your shoes weren't tight!
A quick shower later, and you were out the door, your old size 9's left unlaced and your toes pushing on the fronts. Your dad gave you a teasing grin when he saw your shoes, and the two of you hopped in the car. He made some joke about buying a size too big this time, and you laughed. Though inside, you hoped you'd need it!