This is a picture of my hands that's been highly altered (the same process that I used on Marilyn Manson's picture). I really like how it turned out.
I like my hands. I have large, strong hands for a woman. My nails are moderately long and natural. I rarely paint them. I work with my hands a lot. I put them in chemicals when I paint and when I clean. I don't have calluses, but the skin on my hands is hard. I always feel odd when I shake a man's hand and it's pasty, smooth, and soft. What is he thinking, with my hand in his? Is he embarrassed for himself, that his soft clammy hands rarely grasp a hammer or climb trees, or is he repulsed by my working man's manicure?
I can swing a hammer, pour concrete, cook a meal, scrub a floor, change a baby and comfort a friend with my hands, and I've done it all. My hands are capable. I have scars to prove that they are tools, I don't let them idle at my sides.
My hands are one part of my body that I'm happy with. They aren't perfect, they don't look like anything a model would pine over, and I don't care.
That bit of knowledge makes me very, very happy.
