Hands...
I am not blessed with slender elegant hands, fit for the finest leather gloves.
My hands are (so I think) average. Not long nor short. Not slender nor big.
I maintain them the best I can: hand cream, equal long nails, occasionally with a red polish but I can't hide that these hands have been busy all their life and not only behind the computer.
When a teenager I got my Free Time Millers degree, I have been a veterinarian assistant (loved to work on farms during my training, even though cattle manure was sometimes up my Bra), I do not wear gloves when gardening or house painting and I do pick up things from the sea shore.
No gloves, I need to feel texture for better grip or understanding.
I need to feel sand, mud, water, warmth and cold. Seeing me with warm cosy gloves in Winter is a rarity. Maybe these are all the same reason why I do not wear socks. I love walking barefoot, I need direct surface contact with my skin.
Walking barefoot in a forest, to feel the soil, old leaves, branches. For me this is one way of feeling close to nature.
When shaking hands, I prefer to feel the temperature of the hands I shake.
It is not just the skin but also the way some one shakes hands that tells me a lot about the other person.
The look too! I love strong hands which shake brief and firmly. Which I prefer to call the No Nonsense Shake. If you ask me what I miss in this non touching Covid time then it is a handshake.
Now we wave, or an elbow (impossible when you need to keep 1,5 metres distance, my arms are not that long). Oke, yes, waving also tells something about the person who waves at you. Feminine, masculine, shy, straight forward etc). And during waving (if not too far away) I can observe the hand.
Back to the exterior of the hands. They do not need to be smooth and soft. I don't mind if they show signs of hard working either by labour or arts (sculptors, veterinarians, builders, gardeners, to name a few). These hands are used and very much alive.
Hands tell much about a character or a way of life. I always look at hands, not so much the female but definitely the male.
Once I stood near a man who had very soft blank hands which did not match his age but did match his face and his shy eyes. Like the man, they looked unused. My verdict just by watching his hands: 'A bachelor. And not only that but also a virgin'. Of course I can be wrong but I seldom am.
Or the man with hands covered in paint, matching the colour of paint flakes in the hair. A man of labour but the nails were short, the hands strong. Someone who loves his profession and who is good at it.
I observed that little soft fluffy hands often belong to insecure men. Those with red cheeks like an off spring of Father Christmas. Shy or always laughing and full of jokes but most likely inside very shy.
Shaking a soft jelly hand is polite but I let go immediately.
But in general I prefer a quick but firm handshake when meeting some one for the very first time. Just long enough to sense the other, to make up my mind. I like to feel strength and a certain distance. Arm not totally stretched but almost. And please one (1) shake.....
I know, there are people who shake and shake, the other hand around my wrist or elbow (please don't... I feel imprisoned). They don't let go. With every word of how nice it is to meet you and how much they have been looking forward to this moment, comes a shake. And they fasten their grip if you let go.
These shakers are often also too close, the noses of their shoes almost touching mine. Bless the Covid restrictions.
I find these people very overwhelming, very certain of their own charm and self awareness. Pouring it out on me. Help!!!
Happening to me, I learned to squeeze, firmly. Or preferable over firmly. And to keep smiling, looking the other person straight in the eyes. And above all to keep my arms as straight as possible until the brains of the other finally register pumping my arm wasn't a good idea. Extravert Shaker versus Introvert Non Shaker.
Or the Charming Josefs who shake once but who are reluctant to let go and therefore using a finger to strike the palm of your hand including your wrist (not that this often happens to me, my eyes usually turn warning dark brown with Charming Josefs).
I recognize surgeons by their hands. Very short nails, very clean and no hair from scrubbing thoroughly.
The country Vet: scrubbed well, short nails and strong, used to heavy work.
I can be very short about slippery sweaty hands, I try to avoid them but are often too polite.
I am blessed with colder hands but I hate it when mine are sweating too in warm weather conditions and apologise rather than wiping them off before shaking. By apologising I let the other the choice to shake or not.
I love to see older hands with the veins on top, seeing the heart beat in these veins. Hands that show a long life, living hands.
As a child already I liked hands like that, they fascinate me and I can't wait to have them too.
I love drawings and photo's of these hands but do not master the artistic skills to eternalize them on paper. I find them elegant. Strong and vulnerable at the same time. Those hands I like to touch, follow the veins. They tell a long story.
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| Photo: Ike Roelfsema |
Handshaking differs per country, not everyone shakes a full hand. Some only the fingertips, briefly. Rather not than well but being polite. Being used to a firm handshake I sometimes feel confused if some one only touches the fingertips. But of course respect.
Why a firm total handshake and not only the fingertips? But this is personal, it tells me more (but not all) about a character. Eyes and hands are a good combination. Frankness is appreciated, a certain distance too. It is only when I get to know someone better and only when it feels good, that a hug is also appreciated.
Last but not least, the touch of a lover. That very unique intimate touch. Holding hands, exploring, entangled fingers, touching palms. Striking finger(s). Skin to skin.
Strong hands, experienced, trustworthy, honest. The feeling of being at home, at ease, longing for more.
Love,
Helen
