Journal entry: seven stories about being me

THE STORY OF THE CURLY HAND

It seems that when my hands are not in use at least one is almost always curled up into a soft fist, with the thumb out and the fingers bent over the palm. I went twenty-seven years without noticing this until the guy I was dating pointed it out to me. “Look at your hand!” he’d say. “You’re doing it again.”

“I think you do it when you are very relaxed,” he said. I don’t know if that’s true.

Later, another boyfriend said, “I think you do that because you’re retarded.”

Continued…