Today I know two things to be true:
I love wearing black. Looks good in the winter (and spring, and fall) when I’m pale white, and looks good in the summer when I’m (somewhat) tan. My mother does not like me to wear black and often says that I’d look so pretty, if only I’d wear a color sometimes. 😉
Shakira may have said hips don’t lie, but Edith was right about the hands. My eyes are always drawn to a beautiful pair of hands.
When I was young I remember one of my friends asking me what was wrong with my dad’s hand. I told her that nothing was wrong. Years before I was even born, 3 of the fingers on his right hand were blown off in an accident. Of course, I consciously knew that he only had a pinky and ring finger, but I never gave it much thought. He could do everything that someone with ten fingers could do, and then some. If I had a knot in a delicate gold chain or a splinter in my foot, I’d go right to daddy. Without ever saying a word, he showed me everyday that through persistence, effort, and a lot of hard work, you can overcome just about anything. As an adult, that has served me so well.
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