If there is one part of my body I’ve always liked it’s my hands. I’ve been told they’re the splitting image of my great grandmother’s – thanks for the genes Nana Joel – and so, since I can remember I’ve looked after them better than anything else. That has meant everything from giving myself weekly manicures, looking after the skin on the back of my hands, taking care of cuticles, and learning how to read the health of my nails. But most importantly, applying and massaging hand cream nightly.
With my favourite hand cream on the bedside table, I sit on the side of the bed and massage the cream in; thinking about the day that was and how much I’m looking forward to a great night’s sleep. I’ll squeeze the very last ounce out of a great hand cream and I’m very loyal because a truly great hand cream is hard to find!
It has however become more than just looking after my hands, rather a ritual that represents self-care and gratitude. Looking down at my hands now…they make me smile. It’s a feature not many care to look at but one, as a writer, I stare at every day and to know I nurture them in the best way I can is a constant reminder to love the skin you’re in.