My body is a wonderland... of quirkiness. For example: I have an extra rib. True story - it's a little nubbin of a rib, a riblett, if you will - located on my right side, which, subsequently, is smaller than the left side of my body. My right foot is smaller than my left, my left breast is larger than my right. I have teeny, tiny little ears. (If you thought I was going to say nipples, wrong. Those are like flap jacks. Just kidding, they're small, too). But seriously, I have elf-like ears. Like I could totally be in Lord of the Rings or something. And I have huge feet that match my ginormous man hands.
That's right - I have man hands. Standing 5'9" is apparently no excuse for this abhorrent anomaly from which I suffer. There is NOTHING sexy about a pair of mittens that can palm a basketball, or a couple meat paws that could literally tear someone's face off. I became aware of this very fact the moment Jerry Seinfeld dedicated an entire episode of nothing to the topic of man hands (above). I knew I needed to put a spin on this situation, stat, but failed to see the silver lining in this:
|A "BIG BOX" of Junior Mints, for scale.|
Now do we understand the severity of my problem? Compounding matters is my permanent Dr. Evil pinky (see above), which I broke some years back in a wicked game of drunken Dodgeball, and never participated in PT after my surgery. So not only are my hands big, they're also ugly. But I digress.
I know what you're thinking, "Get over yourself, Carey. It's not all about you. Look at the bigger picture: We're dealing with a National epidemic of tiny proportions!" To those of you I say: Go fuck yourselves. A) because it's always about me, and B) there are a bajillion tiny girls in this country who can make 5.6" look HUGE. Lacking is the quantity of men who won't feel immediately emasculated the second I take their best friend into my hand. This all spells out a lifetime of loneliness for me. I mean, I can only get by on my stunning charm for so long. And believe you me, Botox isn't gonna cut it in the looks department forever.
So, I'm contemplating metacarpal surgery to remove some phalanges (no idea if that makes any sense, but I'm gonna run with it). I think by taking away some length I can trick a cursory eye into believing I have petite and dainty hands. I mean, it's worth a shot. It's not like I'm reinventing the wheel or anything, people do fucked up shit to their bodies all the time: stretching their necks, binding their feet, women implant boobies, men remove ribs so they can suck their own ding-dongs… it takes all kinds. My point is, I'm no more a weirdo than any of the other weirdos out there making doctors rich.
I realize I've completely gone off the rails with this topic. I've over-sexualized everything, but more importantly, I don't even know my own strength! These hands are a menace to society and small animals. I'm like Lennie in Of Mice and Men. I just want to tend the bunnies! I don't mean to kill them!
It's settled. I'm chopping them off. The hands are coming off entirely.