60 Needles Per Hand, Because I Care What Other People Think

It sucks. It hurts. But I keep going back.

Photo by Daiga Ellaby on Unsplash

“My god, your hands are sweaty,” she said, yanking her hand back from the steering wheel like it had burned her.

“Story of my life, woman,” I thought as I wiped one of my palms on my pants.

To be fair, Carol probably made everyone sweat. The woman had been a driving instructor for 20 years too long — and her unpleasantness really lived up to all the rumors I’d heard.

That moment replayed itself over and over in my head. It’s amazing how one comment — so small, so offhand — can become the soundtrack of your insecurities.

I’d never been oblivious to my sweaty hands, but her reaction solidified it as a flaw I couldn’t ignore. A flaw that wasn’t just uncomfortable for me but apparently for others, too.

Have you ever felt nervous about shaking someone’s hand because you knew yours was sweating? That was my entire life.

I remember being about seven years old, not able to hang on the bar in gymnastics without the instructor slapping on an extra layer of chalk.

I remember entering junior high and feeling terrified about a boy ever trying to hold my hand.