My hands, they are still beautiful
10:36 AM Posted In beauty , hands Edit This 6 Comments »
As I glance at my hands while type I see little fat "snausages"... all puffy and red tipped (thank you- Lupus). They are not my reliable friends... dropping stitches off the knitting needles, clumsily handling puppies, knocking over coffee cups... I feel like a toddler whose want is to make a part of my new discovered body work through my directions.
My hands feel heavy... slow... ugly.
My mother always commented on my hands, those "beautiful piano playing fingers". My long, thin, tapered fingers that stretched over an octave. Nimble and quick. When I went to have my wedding rings sized the clerk gasped at my long size 4 fingers. Oh yes, how I knew I had beautiful hands... my strong fingernails that never broke, ones that women swore were acrylic or silk wrapped. No, never! I was vain, cranberry fingernail polish adorned meticulously manicured nails, skin soft and silky from only the best of hand lotions...
...and now...
20 years later, years of diapering, gardening, working... life, have seemed to rob them of their beauty. I could have done more... more lotion, more manicures but somewhere all that got lost in the bustle of a life with very busy hands. I neglected them and their beauty faded.
... or did it?
As I look at my hands, a few paragraphs later, I see hands that touched the skin of babies fresh from the womb, hands that caught bugs with children, dug in the dirt and threw leaves. Hands that learned to make car repairs, hands that plucked out splinters and patted loyal furry friends on their heads. Hands that can sew, spin fiber to yarn, knit. Hands that not only got to hold but have had to let go...
My hands are still beautiful, not in the vain way I thought of them many years ago. They are aged, often tired and scarred but they are my hands. Sometimes they don't want to do what I tell them to... sometimes they want to be still when I still want to work and often they revolt and don't allow me to do anything but reflect. My hands have been good to me.
I see them now, in a different light... my hands are not ugly! They are still beautiful, even if unattractive.
My hands feel heavy... slow... ugly.
My mother always commented on my hands, those "beautiful piano playing fingers". My long, thin, tapered fingers that stretched over an octave. Nimble and quick. When I went to have my wedding rings sized the clerk gasped at my long size 4 fingers. Oh yes, how I knew I had beautiful hands... my strong fingernails that never broke, ones that women swore were acrylic or silk wrapped. No, never! I was vain, cranberry fingernail polish adorned meticulously manicured nails, skin soft and silky from only the best of hand lotions...
...and now...
20 years later, years of diapering, gardening, working... life, have seemed to rob them of their beauty. I could have done more... more lotion, more manicures but somewhere all that got lost in the bustle of a life with very busy hands. I neglected them and their beauty faded.
... or did it?
As I look at my hands, a few paragraphs later, I see hands that touched the skin of babies fresh from the womb, hands that caught bugs with children, dug in the dirt and threw leaves. Hands that learned to make car repairs, hands that plucked out splinters and patted loyal furry friends on their heads. Hands that can sew, spin fiber to yarn, knit. Hands that not only got to hold but have had to let go...
My hands are still beautiful, not in the vain way I thought of them many years ago. They are aged, often tired and scarred but they are my hands. Sometimes they don't want to do what I tell them to... sometimes they want to be still when I still want to work and often they revolt and don't allow me to do anything but reflect. My hands have been good to me.
I see them now, in a different light... my hands are not ugly! They are still beautiful, even if unattractive.