These Hands Are Mine

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The other day I cut my fingernails which to most people, myself included, is a mundane yet necessary chore much to the likes of filling up the gas tank or using the bathroom.  What precious wasted time is spent.  This day was different.  You see, I had let my nails grow long.  Perhaps this was an attempt to be girly.  If I couldn't be petite and pixie like, I could try to have dainty feminine hands.  However, I learned some things should not be messed with.

As soon as I clipped those nails, I felt this rush of familiarity.  These hands with the long fingernails had not been mine.  Who knew something so simple could make such a difference. But girls are silly creatures sometimes.  The instant confidence you feel when switching from flats to killer heels or wearing that new outfit.  Even if no one notices your shoes or nails, you know how you feel and that will get noticed.

There you have it.  My short nails gave me this renewed energy.  Sometimes we can't fight ourselves on these things.  Short nails are me.  My hands might have callouses from playing stringed instruments and from the strokes of pen to paper.  I might have hang nails from a nervous habit that I can't seem to drop.  That's perfectly alright.

These strong hands will be held by even stronger ones and that's when they will feel small, dainty, and feminine, even without long nails.  Someday.