Handle With Care

25 Feb

I love hands.
Their imperfections are the summation of our lives, our hardships, and our love.
Mine are a perfect representation of everything I am.  My right ring finger has three distinct freckles but that is the only place on either of my hands where freckles live.   My hands are not small or delicate, they’re strong and scarred and beautiful nonetheless.  I take my stress out on my hands, scratching at the sides of my thumbs until the poor things bleed.  They hold the stories of my past and the promise of my future and my hands are by far my favorite (physical) thing about me.

(Source: loveyourchaos)

I’ve spent a lot of time talking about hands.  They’re just so nice.

I’m not so big on feet but these seemed to match the hands well.

Knobby ankles, Knuckly knuckles.  Today I’m going to get anatomical about what I like.  (Oh, yeah)

So it appears to my highly trained med school eye (pshaw) that the part of the thumb I like so much is called the Proximal Phalanx (listen to that dirty talk!).  The narrow part between where the joint right above gets wide and flat and right below it where the thumb flares out into the palm of the hand.  The greater the difference between the narrow part and the wide parts (though I guess there must be a point of diminishing returns) the better.

If you have hands that do that I’ll probably tell you that you have piano hands.  It means I think they’re cute.

And that’s something I find sexy about men.  Hmmmm, that big toe does it too.

Proximal Phalanx…

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