Me on a B=17 would be like a scary old Brothers Grimm story B17...the poor scrawny helplless saddle would be lost forever between my sit bones. (What was said about me in the ER would be a different literary genre!)

The S for short is only an issue for me on the stoker seat of the tandem, as a longer nosed saddle likes to grab the back of my pants and pull 'em down as I climb aboard. The only proper response for a lady is to turn around and slap the saddle and exclaim "How dare you get fresh with me!" as it giggles with a schoolboyish grin.