God gave me tiny fingers. I’m not going to dance around it … I got screwed in the hands department. I’m 6’2 and 220, and I have hands the size of a midget Hamburger Helper. I’d gladly lop a few centimeters off my toes, a few inches off my elbows to live life large-handed. Funny thing is, I never noticed it until a few years back. I was on a boat with an ex-girlfriend, when she so astutely pointed out that my fingers are small. Squat, even. Had I know she was a hand bigot, I would have never dated her in the first place. Lesson learned. So there you have it, and here I am. My palms are the perfect size, but my fingers? Vertically challenged. That would explain why I never could palm a basketball, grip an NFL-regulation football or open a bottle of baby food. But I’m not bitter.
I’m just sayin’….
I'm Not Saying . . . I'm Just Saying 
