Left-Handed Sasquatch

Life for me has always been enjoyable, and I have always tried to seek out positive ways to look at everything. Granted, there are some situations that firmly plant themselves in a seemingly endless black hole of negativity...even the best optimist in the world struggles to find even a pinpoint of light at times. By no means do I want to imply that my life is more difficult than others because I understand and respect that fact that everyone has trials and tribulations. That's what it's all about. But I would like to point a couple of things out that other folks may not realize, simply for the fact that it's never really mattered...to them.

I am incredibly thankful for the fact that I have two working hands and two working feet to help me through this journey of life. My dad always said, "I complained that I had no shoes until I met a man who had no feet."

That's a beautiful quote, but I'm not sure how many people realize the struggles that people like me go through to actually find shoes...that fit. And if that wasn't enough, my never-ending search for the perfect "left-handed" pen has ended all-to-often in a tragic, smeared-up mess.

My friends, just like anyone else, I have to work with what I was given...which is size 11 feet AND the fact that I'm left-handed.

SO many people do not realize how blessed they are to be able to walk into any store and find the perfect pair of shoes, grab their size and make a purchase. But my fellow Sasquatch girlfriends will agree that it's not always that easy for us. The perfect example came to me when I first visited the GIANT showroom of a popular outlet, bragging about their 10,000+ pair inventory. When I finally found my section in the murky waters beside the Bigfoot statue, I discovered that, out of the 10,000+ pairs of name brand shoes, I had 13 pairs to choose from. Through the years, it does appear that more shoe companies are finding creative ways to add just a couple of extra inches of rubber for the unfortunate flipper-footed women of the world, and I am thankful for that. But I just wanted to let you know how lucky you are if you can just waltz right into a department store, such as JC Penney or Sears and actually find your size. I'm not bitter, but there have been times I wanted to take my big foot and use it to kick Nike's ass.

Thank goodness for a dad with a sense of humor. I remember when I was just a fragile young lass and I first discovered that I was "special." It was at a small shoe store at a mall..."Roscoe Griffin," I think. I was being fitted for the first time and this obviously empathetic sweetheart of a salesperson yelled to the back of the store, "HEY, you got any size 11's?" If my adorable little face turning candy apple red wasn't enough to curb this embarrassing behavior, my dad made sure to top it off by bursting into fits of raging laughter, tears (of sympathy, I'm sure) pouring down his face. It was the first time I realized I was different...and the first time I cried because of shame. The next day, my dad just wanted to make sure I was ok so he brought me a copy of the Sunday paper, where he proudly announced a "Bigfoot Spotting at Crabtree Valley." His mother was the reason for my "good foundation," as he called it. I still love my dad, and yes, his knee still gets a slap each time that story is brought back to life.

The other fabulous gift that I received from my handsome father, other than his witty & often sarcastic sense of humor, was his left-handed/right-brained genes. This guy really did a number on me, but I firmly believe that it has made me a stronger person. It's just another one of those things that most people don't realize because it is truly a right-hander's world.

It started with the desks at school. We don't even have to get into that very much because it doesn't take much thought to realize that the desks were made for righties. I only wish that my kindergarten teacher had popped my left hand harder with the ruler and forced me to use the other. Then it was the spiral notebooks, which my fellow left-handed friends will tell you leaves really cool indentions on your forearm. When you go to the grocery store and swipe your credit card, the cashier so conveniently angles the slip for a righty as they sweetly say, "Sign this please..." And we must not only shift the paper to the opposite angle but also wrestle the pen that is so conveniently attached to the right side. I'm not sure if my brain started to pity itself through the years, but I ended up being able to do some things with my right hand. I write and use a fork with my left hand. But at one point in my life I averaged 170 on a winning bowling team with a right-armed throw. I shoot pool with my left. I hit a baseball with my left. And depending on the situation, especially if someone is begging for it, I can typically bitch-slap someone with whichever hand is closest.

So whether you have big feet or small feet, you're left-handed or right, or you have no limbs at all...just remember that everyone has their own struggles in life. Yet we still may not realize how incredibly fortunate we are, because what we have to work with is who we are.

Can I get a high-five? (No, the other side)

Originally posted on Facebook on November 14, 2009
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