No parts of the body are safe from aging. That's fine, aging is a blessing and I love seeing photos of myself from when I was a child and now.

I'm aging like fine wine, you can barely tell I aged at all, honestly.

But my hands gross me out so much. As soon as I get stressed out, even over tiny things, they get all gross and my veins pop out as if they're trying to free themselves from my body.

My hands end up looking like my mother's hands.

And that makes me dislike my hands and want to hide them, cover them up while they're in use.

I hate how they look like her when I'm stressed, veiny and tense.

It reminds me of who I came from and how I can't truly run away from my family, as if God wants me to remember the hands that hurt me by giving them to me as I grow.

Maybe it's God's way of allowing me to heal, by showing me that even if I am my mother's child, even if I have her hands.

I'll never be like her.