Today I was told I have fat hands.
Who said this to me? It does doesn't matter. No one I have ever met before. Then why do I feel so sad? I know I have fat hands. I know I am fat. Why does it bother me today more than any other day? Some days I am so flippant about such things. Today I am not. Today my perception is I have fat hands. My tiny vulnerable widow opened up for some stranger to make comment and let it affect me. You know that space in time in life where you feel vulnerable like when Tron distracts the MCP so Flynn can get his info disc in to Master Control? That is the window I am talking about, a blip of my day. So I have fat hands, so what? And as I write this out my heart is less heavy and I regain my confidence to go out into the world once again. My vulnerability makes me real, it makes me feel, and goddammit it makes me alive.
Today I have fully-functioning, amazing, beautiful, artistic, fat hands.
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