Sometimes I wonder, what is it with these hands of mine? I'd be proud if it's full of callouses and scars and blackened bruises because to me, those things mean I'm a hard worker and that I can endure pain. I wouldn't mind if it is ugly or hideous. So long as the muscles and sinew are intact and working it's all the same to me. When I was a kid, I would envy my father's hands because they're big and strong, and that someday, I'd like to have the same.

But when people remark that they are gentle-looking, when your date takes it and uses it to warm her cheek, when my niece does the same in gleefulness, or when an old flame would go saying she's missing my touch, I can't help but wonder, maybe there's something to it all.

Must be the laundry detergent I'm using :D