Hands Down

Please! Hide ’em.

That’s how I feel about my hands.

They’re all speckled and freckled. You know that over-ripe banana you have downstairs in your fruit bowl right now, the one with all the brown spots on it? Yep, that’s how my hands look.

And they’re pudgey. Or at least my fingers are. What’s with that?

My husband recently looked at an old photo of me holding our newborn daughter, immediately after giving birth (when, ostensibly, I was at my puffiest/pudgiest self), and exclaimed, “Look how long your fingers were!!” (If I ever learn how to scan a photo, I’ll post that pic and a present-day pic of my hands to prove it to you.)

Oh well. Such is the reality of these aging body parts. Will I spend time/energy/money to get them lasered at my dermatologist’s office? Absolutely not. I’ll just continue to be vigilant in keeping my hands down and hidden whenever possible.

Moving on to a more non-superficial, gracious commentary on hands: I’ve always kind of had a thing for hands. I think they’re truly one of God’s supreme masterpieces. Quite beautiful, actually. And think about their function, purpose and beauty. Helping hands. Holding hands. Praying hands.

Here are three of my favorite images of hands.

Awwww. Remember that?

A beautiful drawing by Albrecht Durer.

Michaelangelo’s David’s hands. Exquisite.

So, yeah. My hands may be all mottled, weathered and pudged-out, but they’re still in good working order. And I’ll take them over anyone else’s any day. Hands down.


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About Me

It's true! Despite playing defense virtually all my life against the onslaught of this sometimes-ugly aging process, it...has...arrived! I naively thought I would escape cellulite (the Cottage Cheese) and crow's feet (the Crepe Paper). But I didn't! And why didn't anyone tell me about this emotional roller-coaster that comes with being an Empty-Nester?! My name is Jodie Barringer Myers. I'm a 54-year-old Friday/chardonnay/ hydrangea-loving wife/mom/court reporter living in Sacramento (Gold River!), California. Writing is cathartic for me. And because I look to find humor and humility among the rubble that is my now very peri-menopausal self, I'm hopeful that you will laugh, cry, learn, enjoy and, most of all, relate to what I have to say. After all, we're all in this together, right?

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