Believe me, you guys, I know how it looks.
For three weeks I’ve been walking around with a permanent thumbs-up. 24 hours a day, even when I’m sleeping, my thumb sticks up in enthusiastic, near-imbecilic approval for everything and everyone I encounter. A thumbs-up wrapped in blinding white, inflexible fiberglass, a thumbs-up that no long sleeve in my wardrobe can stretch across without tearing – a bright, white, all-the-way-past-the-elbow thumbs up that proceeds me everywhere I go.
And I know how badly I am disappointing you, those of you whose paths I cross in the so-called real world, with the scowl that hovers about 18 inches above my thumb, right here on my face, and the bitter, caustic, much-too-short remarks that slip from my mouth when you dare flash me your own thumbs-up in apparent solidarity.
It’s sad, really, the sense of humor I seem to have misplaced. It’s sad that after the 700th gay dude who asks me if I’d had a fisting accident, I can’t find it within myself to even crack a smile at the 701st dude, that I can’t find the generosity of spirit to make him feel okay about his display of unoriginality. Or that I can’t give the 702nd dude – who thinks it’s funny to make a fisting joke even after I’ve complained to him about the 701 fisting jokes, as if the 702nd fisting joke somehow rounds the bend of pure unfunny back again to funny – that I can’t give him the rich, deep, full-throttle belly laugh he so clearly deserves.
But I promise you this; if you should ever find yourself in the unfortunate fixed-thumbs-up position of a long arm cast for three weeks, I will not laugh at you. I will not call you a gimp. I will not make the 703rd version of a lame joke and expect you to laugh. I will sympathize with the challenges to your daily grooming rituals, your limited wardrobe, and your deep, overwhelming three-week-long need to extend your fucking elbow for the love of GOD.
I will sympathize with your search for a plastic shower cast-cover manufacturer that has the foresight to indicate on their boxes if said shower cast cover will actually cover a long arm cast, and not just the short ones.
If you are single I will ask the most attractive and generous of my other single friends to swing by and help you take said shower several times a week.
I will slice your bagels without asking. I will ask you non-cast-related questions so that, for variety’s sake, you can talk about work, Egypt, your mother, and Tabatha’s Salon Takeover.
Most of all I promise to never ever flash you a thumbs-up sign, and I promise to laugh like really hard when you tell me the doctor wouldn’t give you the thumbs-down model instead.