My hands are precious to me.
I use them all day long, for anything and everything. Preferably for creative projects, for caressing my love, or for holding a book I read.
My fingers are slender and pale and have to be rubbed with hand cream regularly to prevent dehydration. I keep my nails neat and the protruding edges nice and white, and I try not to fiddle with the loose pieces of skin around them too often.
All of my ten fingers are still intact. Not everyone my age can say that. So that’s something to be proud of. Life has left some scars on them, but that gives them character.
I have been accused of having piano fingers, but I don’t play the piano.
I prefer to describe them as guitar fingers. I don’t play the guitar either.