Over the past few weeks I’ve gotten a taste of what life must be like for a hand model. Well, except for the fame and money part, of course.
I bought a lifecasting starter kit for my birthday. The problem of having a January birthday is that one’s skin is rarely in good shape from the bone-dry winter air. I’d been waiting a while for the cracks in my knuckles to heal. When they finally did, I managed to slice my right index finger when I was repairing the dishwasher last weekend. Fingertip injuries take a surprisingly long time to heal!
Ever since the dishwasher injury I’ve been overly careful with my hands, paranoid that I’ll cut myself again and have to delay casting my hand another week or more. On the other … hand (sorry, couldn’t resist), it’s been a good realization that the perfect body is a myth. We all have flaws that we conveniently overlook.
Perhaps it’s more realistic for me to cast my hand as it typically is: covered in cuts, grease, or ink; with blisters born from bicycling, yard work, or guitar-playing. Perhaps my nails will be worn down or torn from prying open computers or flattened by a misdirected hammer blow. This would be the most realistic depiction of my hands.
One of life’s secrets is learning to wear one’s scars as badges of honor.