My Hands. As a child I always had a hard time accepting my hands. Sometimes today, I still have a hard time accepting the hands that I have. Let me tell you why.
For some reason, my hands are always Dry.Cold.Cracked.Clammy.Red.Purple(especially in the cold months).
When I was a child, my mother was always buying special loations and creams to put on my hands. To try to sooth them. I hated them. The greasy loations and the fact that I was getting the message that my hands were not good enough and they needed to be fixed or healed.
With all this attention placed on my hands as far back as I can remember, I developed a deep embarassment for my hands. The worst thing that could happen in a classroom activity was a teacher telling us students to hold hands. I was always hiding my hands with my shirtsleeves or sitting on them. Even today sometimes it’s difficult for me to hold hands with my partner or shake someone elses hand in a greeting, without being worried about how my hands feel or what they look like.
Although now through body love, I am much better about embracing the hands that I have. Afterall, they help me with almost every task that I have to do every day. My hands help me do amazing things, even if the aren’t perfect.
They have helped me become a master pool player.
They help me write letters to my loved ones and play the violin.
They help me knit hats and scarves.
My hands help me tie my shoes and type on this keyboard.
They fit perfectly into the embrace of my partners hands, to share a loving connection.
Now I can accept that although my hands might not be the softest hands in the world or the most delicate, I can appreciate all the things that that they help me do.
That is most important and this is my homage to my imperfect hands!
Brought to you by: Mortenson Construction