Thursday, September 27, 2018


When I was younger there were a lot of things about myself I would have changed.

I could go on a rant for days about my arm hair or my knees or my large Italian nose.

But the top of that list was my hands.

They were large and what I considered fat. I saw a thousand flaws and was so envious of those people with "piano player" hands. With dainty fingers that rings looked lovely on; or even fit. I tried to keep my nails long and pretty. Anything to make them seem more "feminine".

Or, at least, what I thought feminine should be.

Body image is a HARD THING.

It's so much more than just a skinny vs fat issue.

Well time has passed. I'm a different person. I love my nose.

The arm hair thing? Mostly in my head.

My hands?

I'm not going to pick up the piano any time soon but they are strong. They do what I need them to do when I need them to do it. Weights and punching and a dozen other things I torture them with and they never complain. They don't fail me.

They are covered in scars and callouses and yesterday, they were literally bleeding.

What they didn't do though, was fail me.

So who cares that they aren't going to be used in a ring commercial anytime soon. Who cares that They occasionally get referred to as "Man Hands".

The measure but which I find them beautiful is not the same as it used to be and I LOVE THEM.


In a week I turn 44. I'll be spending my birthday in my house because my options during the time of COVID are limited. Not that I woul...