Hands Description, Essay Example

My hands are large with broad palms and long thin fingers which end with squared, well-kept nails. These nails are long enough to be decorative, but short enough to be practical; although most of my fingernails are painted with clear polish, the fourth nail on each hand is painted a deep, dark purple. The backs of my hands are a warm cocoa color, and my palms are a shade lighter. The lines and creases on my palms and the underside of my fingers are the color of overturned earth. My hands smell like vanilla lotion and are smooth to the touch, though faint calluses can be felt at the meaty base of both thumbs. A deep horizontal line runs along the upper quadrant of my left palm; at one end it just disappears but at the far right of the palm it shifts from line into a scar that has grown faint and faded with time but is still noticeable. A second scar is visible on the back of my left hand; it begins several inches below the base of my thumb and runs vertically almost to my wrist in a thin white line which stands out starkly against my dark skin.

My hands speak to the contradictions of my personality. My nails are shapely and attractive, but I have painted them with clear polish because it is more practical. Except for the fourth nail on each hand, which I have painted dark purple to give a slight bit of freedom to the passion in my soul. It is important for me, as a model, to put forth a good physical appearance; however, as a former member of the United States military and a dyed-in-the-wool tomboy, I also recognize that hands (along with the rest of me) are meant for doing things, not just being looked at. Thus, someone looking at my hands might find them to be a little contradictory: I have scars, but my hands are soft; I have squared-off, practical fingernails, but two of them are painted a unique color. It gives me pleasure to feel the rough edge of the scar on my palm–a reminder of a childhood accident–and the faint calluses at the base of each thumb that have come from years spent engaging in physical activity, digging trenches and gardens with equal enthusiasm. The thin white scar on the back of my hand is a beloved reminder of the time I rescued an abandoned cat from a construction site, not noticing the jagged glass until it was too late. My hands say that I am a person who values attractiveness, but only to a certain point, and never at the expense of my ability to get down and dirty and accomplish things through sweat, physical exertion, and hard work.

The shape of my hands, the length of my fingers, and the tone of my skin is a link with my past and future. In my own hands I can see the lingering echo of my mother’s hands, her mother’s hands, and her mother’s mother’s hands. I carry the weight of generations in every crease and fold and line that grace my hands, from palms to fingertips. I know that there will come a day when I have a son or daughter whose hands will look a little bit like my own. I look forward to placing a tiny newborn palm against my own so that I can compare its similarities and differences as I marvel at the continued family legacy that is visible in my hands and the hands of my child.