to the left, to the left

I shouldn't love it as much as I do, but I do. And when I hear that someone else is, I feel an instant kinship to them. I love when people I've known forever finally notice, as if it was some special trick I've kept hidden from them. It's silly I know, but I love love love being left-handed.

Sure there are disadvantages like the perpetual stain of pencil or ink on your hand or the need to seek out certain "left-handed" desks in a classroom. Oh and then there are things like learning how to crochet–a little tricky when the person teaching you is doing everything with the opposite hand. I bet you didn't know that there are quite a few objects like bunch bowl ladles or scissors that are right-handed. I also blame my lack of coordination on being a lefty. I kick and throw with my right, but with little skill. What was I supposed to do when all the other kids were doing it with that hand? I'd like to think that if I'd learned with my left, I'd be a master (maybe).

But guess what? Being a lefty is the best.  You get special treatment. "Oh sorry, you can't sit there. I'm left-handed; I need to sit on the end." You get special items like left-handed sewing scissors. You have the advantage in sports (not that I would know about that).  Left-handed people are definitely smarter (remember this is my blog). Out of the last 14 presidents, half of them have been left-handed. Significant? I think yes.

And apparently, I would be really great at primitive fighting.


signed,
your little lefty
M