These are both my thumbs
My left thumb looks like a toe and is roughly one centimeter smaller than my already petite thumb on my right hand. All my life people have laughed at how ridiculous my thumb looks and/or how precious it is, sometimes wanting to touch it as one might want to touch a friend’s baby or a puppy. They alternately tell me it’s adorable, reprehensible, or impossible. The little thumb baffles them. How does it exist? Why does it exist? Can you even use it? What kind of freak are you?
For years I’ve answered questions and put up with people objectifying me because of this irregularity in finger formation, and now, for the first time ever, I’m speaking out about my little thumb and putting to rest the rumors surrounding its existence.
Yes, I have a toe thumb and this does makes me different from people with two normal sized thumbs. And though it is true that one centimeter separates this thumb from the other, and thus separates me from most of the earth’s population, it is far from the only thing. The toe thumb also has mysterious powers.
I hesitate to use the word magical here, because that would give the impression I’m just another conjurer with sparks shooting out of my thumb as I summon plates of fresh cookies, but the powers of the toe thumb are much wider than that. Indeed, I am still discovering the full extent of its use. God knows how many natural disasters I’ve accidentally caused.
Aside from random acts of time bending, I have found that my thumb has water filtering, coffee warming, and dandruff inducing abilities. I can also control marsupials, watch black and white movies on any liquid surface, and always get the last biscuit.
Not only that, my thumb can detect the fashion trends of the future and is the reason for my impeccable style. Because of it, I can tell without looking when professors are wearing pantyhose or taking anti-balding medication and can sense the very moment in which a cucumber passes its prime. Every time I play one of those claw machines at supermarkets I win seven stuffed animals and I have never overcooked pasta. My whites are brilliantly bright because of the toe thumb and it reduces the ability of employers to know when I’m lying, though it doesn’t directly increase my productivity.
To say the least, my toe thumb is powerful and more opposable than your normal length thumb. So while people may laugh at the toe thumb because of its mildly grotesque appearance, I am the one laughing late at night as I gaze into my coffee mug and watch Casablanca while thinking about Professor Norton’s battle against genetics.
There are dozens of us out there, fellow toe thumbers with powers untold. One day we’ll live in a world where people will revere our disfiguration, but until then, let us wield our secret power over the same sizers as we bide our time for greatness.
P.S. Professor Norton actually has a great head of natural hair.
Snotting black 