I have something called stubby thumbs. I didn’t even know it had a real name, but it’s genetic. My niece has it, and her boyfriend diagnosed us both. My aunt has it too. So Zac and David, should you ever have a daughter, she’ll certainly be adorable.
Except for her thumbs.
Turns out Megan Fox has it too. So that makes it ok.
Now in my entire life, I’ve only cared about having stubby thumbs one time. When someone told me they were just fat. And I had to explain that actually, my fingers aren’t as enormous as my butt (or their giant head) due to a “fat” issue. That was bone. And a wide nail. Not a tiny little nail surrounded by a mountain of thumb fat. Also, stupid person, you suck.
(We won’t talk about how it was a church leader. Thankfully, I have a well-ground sense of self-esteem and come from a long line of people who don’t give a crap about “authority” figures. But I could have been a delicate flower. They didn’t know.)
Anyhow, never have I cared about my short, wide little thumbs. Not when I was learning the piano. Not when I had to accept that a ring would never work on that finger. (Wide top, narrow base. It’d just slide around.)
Until now.
What you ask has changed? Well I’ll tell you.
Now I have a giant phone and short, useless thumbs. It’s like fat man and a little coat. But with a phone and a thumb. I actually can not hold my phone in one hand and reach across with my thumb. Was this a problem with my iPhone? Never. Only with the big beautiful screen of my Galaxy. I wouldn’t have even though this could be a problem. Until now….
*Sad Face*
I have to text two-handed, or you get nothing but gobbly gook from me. I tell you.
Life.
It’s full of woes.
~Amanda
Oh, and I finished my book. Tee. Hee.
Amanda A. Allen 