It was while watching an episode of “Seinfeld” that I first heard the phrase, “man hands.” The episode, like all Seinfeld episodes, was hilarious. Jerry was dating a woman who had massive hands, and the oversized hands really stood out, because everything else about the woman was attractive and in proportion. I remember looking down at my hands while watching the show and it dawned on me that I could have played the part.
Yes, I have “man hands.” They’re large, rough, and claw-like. Go to the Contact page and take a gander at my hand grasping my laptop. I told you! LOL. I’ve always had large hands. In the fifth grade my classmates and I were introduced to the violin, and the man who was making the presentation gave our hands the once over to determine what size violin would be the right fit. He took one look at my large mitts and exclaimed, “You’ll need an adult size!” His devastating words slapped the smile right off of my face. I glanced around at the other students with tear-filled eyes, wondering if they had heard him and what they thought. I wanted to slip into the crack on the floor. That incident reminds me how important it is to be careful about what we say to children who are impressionable and most times insecure.
Another incident that comes to mind was many years later. I was in my twenties and hanging out at a local nightclub. I thought I had it going on that night. My weave was laid, and I was wearing a cute two piece Capri set with my midriff exposed. As I walked past this group of people, a jerk in the bunch screamed, “Ugh, she has man hands. Look at her hands!” My flat stomach sank as his mordant words reverberated on my eardrums. No he didn’t just put my hands on blast! The others snickered, and I slinked back to my seat at the bar, humiliated and full of questions about my deformed hands.
My sister told me that my stepfather used to beat on my hands, and I also recall a window at our house falling onto my hands. So it’s no wonder they’re tore up from the floor up. The right hand is worse than the left, and at one time in my life, I would keep it hidden. That was a long time ago, and since then I have done a lot of emotional healing and growing . Today, I’m happy to announce that I’m proud of my “man hands.” It’s the manly fingers on these man hands of mine that are typing this blog. I used these big hands to write “Married in the Nick of Nine,” the first standalone book in the Cass and Nick series, and the sequel, “Baby in the Window,” and the third and fourth novels, “One Harte, Two Loves,” and “Renee’s Return,” respectively.
Today I know that I’m blessed to have hands period! Not just hands, but feet, legs, and all of my limbs, no matter what shape they’re in. I cringe when I think about the people who lost their limbs in that horrific Boston bomb attack. God help us all.
Today I don’t think about my “man hands,” I think about lending a hand, giving someone a hand clap, experiencing something first-hand, knowing something like the back of my hand, and being in God’s Good Hands!
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