At nearly 32 years of age, you’d think I wouldn’t let something like a McDonald’s Iced Coffee commercial get to me, and yet it does. You see, this commercial involves a hand holding a cup of iced coffee, walking around. The main focus of the commercial, for me at least, isn’t the product, it’s the hand. The perfect lady hand. Long, slender fingers. Nails perfectly shaped and polished. This image is of the hands I was born with. These are my grandmother’s hands, from a genetic standpoint, specifically the thumbs. They’re short, stubby little things. Tiny little sausages, I’ve often called them. I don’t often think about the length of my fingers, of the lack of delicate feminine grace my digits posess. . .but this commercial has me irked, obsessed a little even. Sure, my wee nubs possess some great talents. I am able to reach an octave plus one note on the piano, which I think is pretty great for their size and stature. The whole Corona with lime trick. . .my thumbs fit rather nicely in the neck of the bottle, preventing an inevitable spray of beer as you tilt the bottle back up. Perhaps that’s what they were intended for?
They’ve always been attached to my body. . .so I don’t know anything else. . .I wonder, what more could I do with long ladyfingers?