Friday, December 29, 2017

Finger lock

British men or men raised by British men have a tendency to walk with their hands clasped behind their back, typically displayed when surveying a part of the world that wasn't theirs but they took anyway. If you watch old movies with British officers you'll see they all do it.

The men in my family—save for me—are tall. They're so tall they don't clasp their hands behind their back; they grip one wrist with the other hand. That's how long their arms are—great for reach and impressing girls who enjoy things tall men can do like easily changing light bulbs and inspiring genital wetness.

I am short—prenatally shrunk—but I still have a habit of wanting to clasp my hands behind my back. I've discovered I've gone the finger lock method—right index finger looping around a curled left middle finger. It's not too onerous on my short arms to do and I get the satisfaction of imperious hands behind the back walking.

I don't have a British accent—nor do I have broad Australian accent. I have a weird melange of both, depending on the words used and the company said to. 

I'm still royally pissed off I wasn't tall. I know I wouldn't be me without my crippled body and bruised mind—with lack of height and non-lack of weight a constant social cost I wore; a cost compounded by negging girls because I presumed they didn't like me. 

What a dickhead. 

But I learned not to do that and I'm a better person for it. I'd still choose to be me, finger lock instead of manly wrist grab, if it meant a different life of meaningless en. If I had to be me to do the things I did then me it is and in all its short, fat, warped glory. 

(Shaky fist raised for Comrade Mikey


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