It has been three weeks since I broke my finger. And though, it was only my pinkie (Thank God), my finger is completely deranged looking. Like, really not okay looking, and while I am grateful that I still have all ten of my fingers (and get to wear a special little pinkie condom)--I'm not sure if I will ever have a normal looking right hand again. Guess I can kiss my career as a hand model goodbye! Guess whose right hand appeared in a jewelry store's catalog modeling rings at age 13? Mmhmm, mine.
This broken pinkie experience has taught me that each one of my extremities are important to every day functioning. The following are a list of the things that have been made far more challenging as a result of having a broken finger.
1. Eating. My pinkie splint is covered in ketchup, chocolate ice cream and hot fudge. No matter how hard I try, my pinkie splint cannot stay out of the way of my plate, and the contents on it. I cannot eat without dipping my finger into one, or all of these items.
2. Handshakes. Every new person that I've met in the past three weeks has thought that I have a dead fish handshake. I can't firmly shake anyone's hand, and thus shake like a five year old with bad manners. (Or like Julia Kaplan playing the deadfish handshake game).
3. Typing. I type like a god damn 4th grader. (These blogs have required a very concentrated effort to avoid typo's).
4. Handwriting. My handwriting (which once won a contest in the 3rd grade for its proper letter formation and neatness) is certainly sub par these days. It's a good thing that my whole day doesn't revolve around writing on a board for people to see and learn from.
5. Ice cream scooping. I've given up, and just eat from the carton.
6. Keeping my hand warm. A glove does not fit over my right hand, and my hand does not comfortably fit inside my coat pocket. I hope that my pinkie doesn't catch frost bite.
7. Make-up Application. Applying any sort of make up that I need to rub onto my skin is quite challenging using my right hand. Yes, I can do it left-handed, but it's not the same, okay?
8. Drumstick masturbation. (Just kidding, sort of).
9. Clapping. For those of you that know me well, have been in a room with me for more than 15 minutes, and or spent your summers with me at Camp Schodack-- know that I love to clap. (And, I'm dang good at it too). Clapping, (like talking for some), is one of my greatest forms of expression. Saying that I love to clap (LOUDLY) is an understatement. I have been asked by various friends not to clap in their apartments anymore, as there have been noise complaints on my behalf. I can't NOT clap, whether it is in excitement in response to good news, clapping along to a beat, or just clapping in some sort of contest (which I partake in often). Some may say my clap is abrasive, but, I say that it's strong and hearty. Not having been able to clap heartily for the last three weeks has been painful for me, and could quite possibly be the worst part of this whole broken pinkie experience.
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