So what part of your body do you like, for a non-apparent reason, and why? I posted about my hands on another thread, and it got me to thinking.
For me, it *is* my hands. They are ugly, no ifs-ands-or buts. Not in a JLo booty way, either, where reasonable minds could differ. They are knobby and dry, my fingers are short and stubby, my nails are constantly a catastrophe, my palms – despite never having been used for manual labor in the occupational sense – look and feel as if I have been picking crops all my life.
And that is why I like them, I guess. My predecessors, from a part of S. India called Kerala, *did* do manual labor, we came from a caste that was about as low as you could go w/o actually being untouchables. Our caste “job” was cultivating coconut trees, harvesting them (your hands got a workout when you climbed those babies without the benefit of modcons), and then distilling them into alcohol. Yup, moonshiners!
A couple of generations ago we got educated kind of en-masse – the government, at least in my part of India, which is/was a weird one in some ways – was v. good about establishing the equivalent of affirmative action programs for lower caste people. Now everyone in my family, women and men alike, are doctors, lawyers, engineers, definitely a case of “how do you keep them on the farm once that they’ve seen Paree”
But when I see my hands I am occasionally reminded of the folks that came before, worked so hard, and made my life possible, which is kind of a beautiful thing. And they have earned their ugliness in other ways, a lifetime of typing has given them carpal tunnel and joint problems, but they still work really hard, and relatively uncomplainingly for me, bless their hearts. Ok, that may be the very embodiment of a mixed metaphor!
Hah, you guys thought I was going to talk about something racy, didn't you? Sorry
For me, it *is* my hands. They are ugly, no ifs-ands-or buts. Not in a JLo booty way, either, where reasonable minds could differ. They are knobby and dry, my fingers are short and stubby, my nails are constantly a catastrophe, my palms – despite never having been used for manual labor in the occupational sense – look and feel as if I have been picking crops all my life.
And that is why I like them, I guess. My predecessors, from a part of S. India called Kerala, *did* do manual labor, we came from a caste that was about as low as you could go w/o actually being untouchables. Our caste “job” was cultivating coconut trees, harvesting them (your hands got a workout when you climbed those babies without the benefit of modcons), and then distilling them into alcohol. Yup, moonshiners!
A couple of generations ago we got educated kind of en-masse – the government, at least in my part of India, which is/was a weird one in some ways – was v. good about establishing the equivalent of affirmative action programs for lower caste people. Now everyone in my family, women and men alike, are doctors, lawyers, engineers, definitely a case of “how do you keep them on the farm once that they’ve seen Paree”
But when I see my hands I am occasionally reminded of the folks that came before, worked so hard, and made my life possible, which is kind of a beautiful thing. And they have earned their ugliness in other ways, a lifetime of typing has given them carpal tunnel and joint problems, but they still work really hard, and relatively uncomplainingly for me, bless their hearts. Ok, that may be the very embodiment of a mixed metaphor!
Hah, you guys thought I was going to talk about something racy, didn't you? Sorry
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