fat fingers

Until recently, I had no idea I had fat fingers. No one had ever mentioned that they were unnaturally fat, I never felt the need to have a complex about them, indeed, it never occurred to me that fatness of fingers was something which might become a problem to me.

Not until my dear generous husband bought me a mini laptop on which to write my best selling novels (and free up space for him on the ordinary computer). From the start, I found my fat fingers a handicap. It took me twice as long to type anything (and as a trained typist, I do it 'properly' ie using all my fingers) because I kept hitting two keys at once, or hitting the wrong keys. I tried to pretend it wasn't a problem, so as not to upset Rob, but in the end, the swearing and stress my fat fingers were causing became apparent even to him. Fatfingeritis became a recognised disability in our house.

My children can be cruel, and they spent quite a lot of time laughing about my unfortunate affliction. Luckily, they are also brilliantly inventive and Ben came up with a novel solution. He sellotaped pin tacks onto my fingers. This means that only the sharp bit of the pin tack is hitting the keys, instantly transforming my fingers into something akin to anorexia fingers. I can type away, producing text which actually makes sense and does not turn me into some sort of typing retard. Okay, I may look a bit stupid, but I can live with that.

Obviously, some refinement may need to take place before he does a powerpoint presentation to the 'Dragon's Den', but I think he could be onto a winner. Surely I am not the only one in the world to have found that, cute as they are, and practical in terms of fitting into one's handbag, mini laptops are not suitable for everyone, especially those with Fat Finger syndrome?

I wonder if he could now work on something to rid me of my bushy and somewhat uneven eyebrows. Something which does not involve a daily painful plucking expedition. They were another thing I had never really worried about until my sister in law asked me if I ever worried about them. Now, of course, all I see when I look in the mirror are two rather mishapen and increasingly bristly slugs sliming their way across the top of my eyes.