What’s the first thing you notice about a person?
Their eyes, I assume? Perhaps it’s their hair. “Their smile” is a textbook response. Now, imagine your fingers being the first thing others notice about you. Yes, your fingers.
I’m one of those people who have abnormally bendy fingers. I can touch my thumb to my inner forearm, bend the tips of my fingers forward, and push my pinky finger backwards—I’m essentially a bag of remarkably purposeless party tricks. You may have heard of this ability being termed double-jointedness, but for the sake of medical accuracy, let me clarify: the correct term is hypermobility (I don’t actually have two joints instead of one; my joints are just inordinately mobile).
Here’s what’s particularly striking to me: I don’t have awfully flexible arms or legs that let me launch into a full split in an instant—I just happened to hit the genetic jackpot and land up with awfully flexible fingers. But what initially seemed like an inconsequential anomaly has, in actuality, affected my life in minimal yet capricious manners.
Take, for instance, my inability to play the piano or the guitar. While I’m certain there are other underlying reasons for my musical ineptitude, attempting to switch chords and having my fingers lock in position is likely the most significant. After spending five long months trying to get the hang of “Happy Birthday” and still falling flat, I finally decided to take a step away from instruments.
However, what my hypermobile joints managed to take hold of before my ability to play instruments was my ability to write. Though it’s now detected by anyone sitting next to me during a test, my tendency to hold a pen with three fingers instead of two was first observed by my grandmother. And to this day, each year, she’s asked me if I’ve started writing like a normal person, and each year, I’ve replied in the negative, allowing my fingers to form the basis of our poignant grandmother-granddaughter annual tradition.
Now, before you grow completely tired of reading about my fingers, I’d like to mention that they’ve subjugated my social interactions as well. Because my fingers are invariably bent and incapable of appearing straight, I cannot point in a certain direction or shush anyone without miraculously turning into a laughing stock. It’s hard enough being taken seriously with a height of 5’1”—and kinked fingers certainly do not help…
Having said all that, there are palpable upsides to having crypt-keeper fingers; I can terrify strangers with absolute ease (effortless Halloween tactic) and I don’t need to struggle to come up with fun facts about myself for first-day-of-school icebreaker activities either!
Written by Pihu Tewari
Designed by Nandini Bohra
Images taken from East Coast Podiatry and Reddit
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