Day 3. Hands
Can you have a favorite hand?
If I were you, I would say no, seeing as the question sounds ridiculous. I might even go as far as to say some dirty things, but since I am me and my audience could range in sensitivity, I will refrain.
However, I have a secret for you.
I have a favorite hand.
It's my left hand.
My right hand may write for me and do most of my daily dexterous activities, but my left hand is where the money's at. Literally. I have spent some money on making my left hand what it is.
First off, I always have my nails painted some color. I love expressing myself with color. Right now they are sparkly aqua, because the weather has been in the 60's around here. Last week they were hot pink. Monday? Maybe dark purple cause apparently it's supposed to be cold again. [WTF, winter. W.T.F.]
Next, my wedding ring. My pretty, pretty wedding ring. First was only my engagement ring, then my wedding band joined in on the fun. It's been a constant show for 2 years (this month!), not that I'm complaining. I love showing it off to new people, getting it cleaned so every last diamond sparkles and putting it on every morning. That may be material, but it's too damn bad. I love it! Maybe for our 10 year anniversary I'll upgrade. For now, I like that it is small but incredibly sparkly.
And finally, my tattoo. I guess technically it's on my wrist, but I'll allow it. This tattoo is one I got in remembrance of my mother. My mom passed away in 2009 to Colorectal cancer and it was, and still is, the hardest thing I have ever had to go through. I still struggle on a day-to-day basis and some days I just don't know why I get up without her. She was my best friend as well as my mother.
Getting this tattoo has helped me keep her with me at all times. Sometimes, as I'm working or doing some mundane activity (the two often go hand-in-hand...), the handwriting will catch my eye. I'll turn my hand over and see her initials staring back at me, and realize that I am truly lucky to have known my mom. I got a chance to grow up with her. She has told me she loved me at an age that I can remember. She might not have seen me graduate college or get married, but I have had a lot of other memories. This tattoo helps me remember, and keeps me grounded.
My mom was very against tattoos, ironically. I'm sure the day I got it, which was around her 2 year anniversary, she was up in heaven yelling at me and making god second guess letting her in. She also wasn't one to cuss, but in my imagination, she called me every name in the book to get me to not go through with it. I was expecting it to hurt a LOT and surprisingly, it didn't. So the thought of "getting a tattoo so I can be in pain like she was in pain for 6 years" turned out to be, "well I got pricked a ton for 45 seconds and then it was over. I love you, Mom?"
But I'm super proud of it and don't regret a thing. [now I just want more!]
Keep coming back every day this month to see my #photoaday grow!(you can also follow me on Instagram (@kerrywoah), or on Webstagram here!)