If you watch TV commercials or read magazines, you may have seen me twist lipstick, stroke cheeks, dip fries, swirl wine, fondle jewels, or swipe credit. Hi, I’m Adele and I’m a hand model.
I didn’t plan this life for myself, you could say it was rather handed to me. As a kid, I never once gazed longingly into a wish-pond and thought to myself, “One day, my hands will be all over the WORLD.”
People often ask me if my hands are insured (or if I’ve seen the Seinfeld episode where George becomes a hand model). The answer to both questions is no. But in reference to the first, I’m hoping my karma this lifetime won’t involve a major accident with a paper shredder.
Sure, I’m grateful I’ve landed a career that pays me more to reveal the inside of a steamy Toaster Strudel or slice into a tomato, than some doctors to biopsy more serious matter. I’m not however a palm-stroking, self-adoring hand-diva who wears gloves while eating, riding elevators, or getting busy. Why, I’ve even been known to tie my own shoes and shake hands without protection!
I used to be a bit embarrassed to admit I live one hand job to the next. How can I take myself seriously when I’m judged from the wrist-down?
Funny, I once ‘judged’ blogs as self-indulgent and personal websites as narcissistic, and as of today I have both. A sprinkle of attitude and a dash criticism seems to be my recipe of defense whenever I’m on the sidelines looking in at those more willing to actively play the game of life.
I’m not sure what my ultimate role is on the team of humanity, but I sincerely hope to someday contribute more to society than nice nail beds. But in the meantime, here I am cyber-world with my self indulgent blog…though no longer on the sidelines hiding behind my hands.