Deaaaad Fingggggah!
I have a little thing called Raynaud’s Disease. Actually, that’s what I assume it is as I am a firm believer in sketchy online self diagnosis by less then reputable sources. But really, there isn’t anything else under the sun that it could be and as it’s been going on regularly for 6 or so years and I’m not dead yet, I feel pretty comfortable with my diagnosis.
It’s actually kinda fun. I call it “dead finger” (but when you say it, it has to be in a deep singsong voice to the tune of the 007 “Gold finger” theme. It’s just more fun this way) Each finger can have a colour independent of the other four ranging from corpse white to heart attack purple with every conceivable shade of pink/red/blue in between. I have been known to have rather colourful hands at times. It would be a stretch to call it painful, though it is definitely not comfortable. It’s fun for me to randomly touch people in my office with my multi coloured sub zero fingers as though it’s a horrid and contagious condition. Of course they all now know that it isn’t, but there is still a flash of repulsion/fear in their eyes that warms my evil little soul. I can’t seem to stop myself. Their obvious discomfort makes me smile because that’s the kind of girl I am.
Don’t blame me though, it’s the Raynaud’s. It diverts vital blood from my heart and therefore clearly not within my control. (The touching/creeping people out is, but whatever. Everyone needs a hobby.)
