These are not my hands.
I was driving the other day and looked down at my hands. I could barely concentrate on driving as I kept staring at my hands, thinking, "Whoa, those are so not my hands." First of all, when did my hands get switched with old people hands and second, why did I not notice this was happening?
There are brown age spots on my hands which must certainly belong to my mother or even my grandmother. All I know is that they sure as heck don't belong to me. At first I thought I'd just wait for them to magically change back, but deep down I have the sinking feeling that 1) they will never change back, 2) I'm stuck with them forever and 3) I have been betrayed by my hands.
I've done the denial and anger, so I guess the last step is acceptance. I just need to admit it: I have old lady hands. Okay. Not that I expected to, but I don't feel any better now and have nothing more to say about my old, spotted wrinkly hands. Except this: fair warning, if anyone tries to switch out anymore body parts for old lady ones, I'll be VERY VERY angry.
3 comments:
Well if you got mom's hands then I got her belly!
I'm still in the denial stage- it's more fun to be there.
This is why I don't do my picture albums--it is too hard to look at myself.
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