"My father had blue eyes but his hands were covered in calluses. He worked, prayed, and kept his peace. Like him, I was silent too. What was to become of me? Was I to stay like that my whole life long, sitting by a wall, or would I haul barrels about, too? I took a look at my hands. My hands were too soft ... I had to find some special occupation, some kind of work that would not force me to turn away from the sky and the stars, that would allow me to discover the meaning of my life. Yes, that was what I was looking for. But in my home parts I was the only one who had ever uttered the words 'art' or 'artist'. 'What is an artist?' I asked."
Marc Chagall
I could've said that. (biographical particulars aside!).
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I hope so! Actually, with my terrible standard of dexterity at the moment, my hands are becoming more paw-like too... If I grow a tail I will be so happy.
I wouldn't worry unless you went for more than a month on that diet.
and plaid trousers would be fabulously wonderful! how many people have the guts to wear them! Especially to a wedding! I mean really.