A lot* of people ask me why my blog is called Dude Sized Hands, or “Man Hands” if you’re an inattentive, but no less devoted, reader. Like most of life’s endeavors, it started with a conversation about fisting. My girlfriend and I were discussing (judging) a mutual friend who is this tiny, small-framed girl and her boyfriend, who is Bigfoot. How, we thought judgmentally, could such an act occur between our friend and this dude, with dude sized hands?!
As soon as the words came out, I thought, If I were in a band, I’d totally name it that. Too bad I’m already in a fictional band!
Several weeks later though, my career as a tambourine-ist for Sex Cymbal came to an end. But by that time, I’d already named my blog Dude Sized Hands.
P.S. If that ending doesn’t satisfy you, you can also think of Dude Sized Hands as a metaphor for overcoming the impossible, and not just sexually, though you can think of it that way too if that helps you. There’s also a feminist ending: Dude Sized Hands is a reminder to women to take our share of the media pie. How women, and I particularly, tend to downplay my experience and achievements, as well as make far less money than men do. Another telling example of the sexism in media jobs is from a woman who decided to adopt the pen name James Chartrand and began earning double and triple the income she did with her given name. To make it as a woman, in other words, you have to have dude sized hands.
The end, part two.