The Fridge at Eye Level

This morning, I stood in my polka dot pajama pants and oversized t-shirt that loudly proclaims: “I’m not arguing, I’m just explaining why I’m right.” One arm held Kora’s clothes, the other passed Bennett a granola bar and milk. I shuffled to the fridge, my kingdom of cold convenience, ready to return the milk to its rightful spot.

As I lingered there—half-mom, half-personal assistant—I thought, Maybe there’s something in here I want to eat...

I scanned my “home turf”: the bottom shelf, the middle shelf, the easy grab-and-go zones. Then, on a whim, I rose up into a shaky little relevé—heels lifted, narrow second position, channeling every ounce of balance and ankle strength left over from yesterday's class.

And suddenly, the top shelf unfolded like a new planet.

Two jars of parmesan. Two jars of dill pickles. At least three half-used sweet-and-sour sauces from Chinese takeout nights long gone. All sitting there just above my usual line of sight—unnoticed for weeks, maybe months.

It struck me: I glance up here sometimes, but I never stay long enough to really see.

The T-Shirt Cameo

This wasn’t even the first time this particular shirt tried to make a point. The last time I wore it, I was mid-kerfuffle with a colleague on a virtual call. I don’t think they could see the whole bold print — “I’m not arguing, I’m just explaining why I’m right” — but part of me secretly hoped they could.

Looking back, that was a little childish. (Even though, let’s be clear, I was absolutely 100% right. And no, that guy is not getting a Christmas card this year.)

But that’s perspective too. What felt righteous in the moment now feels funny, and maybe tomorrow I’ll file it under “lesson learned.”

The Hidden Shelves of Life

We laugh at the classic scene:

• Husband can’t find the ketchup.

• Kid can’t find the crayons.

• Mom sighs, walks over, and finds it instantly.

Sure, sometimes it’s because Mom put it there in the first place. Sometimes it’s just superior sleuthing skills. But often, it’s about perspective.

If you don’t usually live at “top shelf height,” you’re not conditioned to see what’s up there. And that’s not laziness or oblivion. It’s human.

But here’s the kicker: just because you can’t see the top shelf doesn’t mean you don’t deserve what’s up there.

Think about the party store: the “top shelf” is where they stash the best of the best — the most expensive, the most exclusive, the bottles with the gold labels. The stuff you toast with when you’re celebrating something big.

In life, we can trick ourselves into believing the top shelf isn’t for us. That it belongs to people taller, richer, more qualified, more whatever. But here’s the truth: sometimes all it takes is a little stretch, a shift, a lift onto your toes, to realize that top-shelf option was always within reach.

The Lesson (a.k.a. Why I Stayed in Relevé Longer Than Necessary)

Sometimes growth is as simple as shifting your view—lifting your heels, adjusting your stance, balancing in an uncomfortable position long enough to notice what’s been there all along.

Because perspective isn’t about what’s visible. It’s about what you’re willing to look at differently.

And here’s the bigger reminder: just because you can’t see the top shelf doesn’t mean you don’t deserve what’s up there.

Life’s “top shelf” isn’t reserved for someone else. It’s not just for the taller, louder, richer, or more qualified. Sometimes, it’s for the person willing to stretch, even if it wobbles your ankles a little.

So go ahead — lift up, take a peek, and claim the good stuff. You belong at the top shelf too.

MoveMaker Takeaway: 

The next time you’re frustrated that someone “can’t find” what seems obvious, or when you start to believe the “top shelf” isn’t meant for you, try asking: Which shelf am I seeing from? And how can I stretch a little higher?

Sometimes, all it takes is a lift — and the belief that what’s up there has your name on it.

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Mini-Message:

Sometimes the “obvious” thing isn’t obvious at all — it just lives on a different shelf. Perspective shifts everything.

Munchies:

Pair those stray sweet-and-sour packets with something fresh and adult-worthy:

• Sweet & Sour Glazed Veggie Stir-Fry (grab the forgotten sauce and toss it with broccoli, snap peas, and carrots).

• Bonus bite: sprinkle leftover parmesan from shelf-top discovery on roasted cauliflower for a quick snack that feels fancier than it is.

Movement Exercise:

Try a Balance + Reach Flow:

• Stand in a narrow second position.

• Rise into relevé (heels lifted).

• Extend one arm up to an imaginary “top shelf” while the other arm reaches diagonally down toward the floor.

• Alternate sides for 8–10 reps each, engaging core and ankles. It’s both a stability challenge and a literal embodiment of “changing perspective.”

Music Reco:

Song suggestion: “Upside Down” by Jack Johnson — chill, playful, and all about seeing things from a new point of view.

Mind-Bender:

Ask yourself (or your family at dinner): 👉 What’s something you once thought was hidden, but later realized was just above your line of sight? (This could be physical, like the parmesan jar, or life-level, like realizing a skill, strength, or truth you’d overlooked.)

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Snack-sized sentiments, full-sized feelings. Follow @MoveMakerMedia for more everyday chaos and emotional clarity.