The Secret Diary of a Call Girl with a Broken Right Thumb – "This decades Kafka"

Sounds like it would be a good TV show doesn’t it? I think the leading lady’s name would be Geneva and she would seduce successful and affluent men back to her boudoir. And once there, they would eat Gouda cheese and drink Singapore sling’s and her audience would watch on in fascination (and horror) as she achieved incredible sexual feats with nothing but her mouth and her broken thumb. God Jeano. Stop blogging your finest material. That is gold. ("is this chick serious? where does she get this rubbish from?")

Sadly, I can’t claim that I am a call girl. Although, it would probably be a good way to expand my reader base. But even sadder, is the fact that I cannot deny that I do suffer from a rare and debilitating disease known in ortho-circles as cracto-digito (broken thumb).

Tip: Rotating doors are dangerous and putting your hand in one will not stop it spinning! (Oh my gosh, that is definitely not how I broke my thumb but I live in fear of that happening every time I see a rotating door!). I kind of gallop through them and walk sideways in an effort to keep both pieces of glass in peripherals.

My thumb was actually broken on my farm when I encountered a rather painful dirt-noogie (if you can grapple with that visual) from a hoof when refitting my pony Dandelion’s horseshoe. Haha! Are you serious? As if I would call my pony Dandelion! His name is T-Rex.

I'm kidding! I don't even own a pony you pencilsharpener! Anyway, I know that having a broken thumb is something many of my reader’s are curious about trying out someday, because I have been inundated with emails asking probing questions like:

“Jean, do you think you will win a bravery medal?” – Yes.

“Jean, would you consider being a hand model for a first aid magazine?” – Maybe.

“Do you think Greek yoghurt and natural yoghurt taste exactly the same, despite contention from your friends?” – Yes.

So responding to my feedback dilligently I have provided a few hints of how to best handle life with a broken thumb. But if I am completely honest (which my readers know I always try to be), it’s kind of like watching Avatar on DVD. Never going to match up to the real deal in a cinema with 3D goggles unfortunately. Here we go:

Bobby pinning. This one is tricky because believe it or not, most men and women (usually women) bobby pin with their thumb and forefinger. Here, I have found the best strategy is to use man’s best known alternative to fingers – teeth.

Picking things up. This is a job for the loserish and often forgotten retarded friend of the right hand – the left hand (no offence to left handed people – and FYI: I know who you are because you always have ink stains on the side of your hand from where you smudge your own writing) – how terribly sad.

Looking cool. This is undoubtedly the most difficult to achieve as I have experienced first-hand (hehe - did you notice the way I incorporated "hand" into a thumb post?) Probably because my thumb wears what the experts (ie. me) call “a thumb nappy” or “a plastic coffin with velcro straps on it”. The only way to look cool wearing a thumb nappy is to make like a five-year-old with a boo-boo and show every man and his dog your indiscretion so they think you are boring, rather than a loser. Cue obligatory photo of something moderately relevant:

This is a complete stranger trying to make a thumb nappy look cute. As you can see she is failing.
But she is wearing a wedding ring. (If I were a betting man, I'd bet that the ring preceded the nappy).

Did you enjoy the way I stretched the topic of a broken thumb into an entire blog post and actually thought the general public might be interested? Feel free to treat that question as rhetorical by not leaving a comment.