You know, they used to say that you can tell a lot about a lady by looking at her hands.
Look at these two sorry specimens.
I tried to put them in a ladylike pose, but it doesn't work. My skin looks pretty wrinkly -- ugh. At least my fingernails are clean.
No, what I mean is, take a look at those big honkin' bruises. Impressive, no? Worthy of sympathy? Well, go ahead, if you want to, but it's really not necessary.
For some reason, I have the unfortunate tendency to "pop" blood vessels in my hands during karate class. When I punch one of the pads during a drill, it's not unusual for me to feel a faint pinching pop. Within the next half-hour or so, the site will swell and turn the color of a Concord grape. The beauties you see here were an interesting purple/red last night. Now that they've had nearly 24 hours to dissipate, they're impressive on a completely different level.
Despite this, I really love hitting those targets. And I don't hit like a girl, either. When I land one, I like to feel and hear ka-pow or boom or smack.
Apparently I have "issues" that are soothed when I beat the living crap out of the pads, landing punches and kicks as if the poor things had insulted my momma. I'm always delighted when I land a good one and a little piece of the stuffing poofs out one of the vent holes. "We have stuffage!"
So what do my hands tell you? To some they may say, "Look out, this one's gonna pound you." To me, they say, "See those bruises? You only landed one out of three with your hand in the right position. Tsk. Next time, those bruises had better be on the index- and middle-finger knuckles. Now drop and give me 20."
Well, I have class again tomorrow night, so I'll see what I can do, hands!