Tremble.

There's a lot that I could nitpick about my appearance; the fact that I'm making a real effort to go completely bald by 30 (my hairline is running like hell for the back of my skull at a speed that make Usain Bolt blink once or twice) or the fact that my gut hangs heavy and, were I a woman, I'd be getting asked when I was due by mongrel vultures on the street. I suppose I lucked out in the face department -- I've got a pretty handsome face -- and my teeth, apart from coffee-stains and one chip, are nice and solid. None of that much bothers me; I'm working to lose the gut, I keep my teeth in order and will eventually get the chipped one capped, and I look pretty good with a shaved head.

I hate my hands, though.

They're boxy things, wide and solid. They're thick hands, neither rough with work or soft. The fingers are a tiny bit short for the size of the paw, but they're not the squat little sausages of so many fat people. They're stupid hands, fumbling over themselves, but stupid hands can be trained.

They shake, though. They always have a tremor, for as far back as I can remember. I think I saw a doctor about it once when I was very, very young. The doctor told me to cut back on caffeine; the result was that I was miserable and I still shook, and shook a little more because I was angry and didn't have my favorite dopamine hit on hand. My hands shake like bastards, and everyone notices. Sometimes the tremor spreads up to the arms, through the chest. Sometimes I swear it sneaks up my spinal column and sends my brain to shaking. But my hands always shake.

I work on harmonicas, and harmonicas have a large number of small parts that need to be modified in tiny, delicate ways to improve. This requires dexterify and grace and a steady hand. I have killed many harmonicas because my thick, stupid, shaking hands have snapped a reed. I've learned when to drop my tools, or how to move slowly enough and microsopically enough that I can change what I need -- very slowly and very carefully.

Not too carefully, though. They shake worse when I try to steady them

I like card tricks. Learning card tricks, though, sends me to hell fury. I can't pull them off. My hands shake too badly.

Sometimes I'm tempted to break them, snap the fingers all in one go like a bundle of dry sticks just to teach them a lesson, just to show them that I hate them for how much they shake. They deserve it, these trembling coward's hands of mine.

If it's a brain tumor it's taking its sweet time in killing me.

Weird observation: My right hand is dominant, my left is more dexterous. I'm also right-handed but left-eyed. I think getting dropped as a child may have had some unusual effect on me.