Let me tell you about the afternoon I became obsessed with the back of my own hands.<\/p>\n
I was sitting across from a friend at a coffee shop when she grabbed my wrist and said, \u201cWow, your veins are really\u2026 visible.\u201d She didn\u2019t say it like it was a bad thing. She said it like she\u2019d just noticed a new freckle or a change in my hair color. But something about those words lodged in my brain.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
That night, I couldn\u2019t stop looking at my hands. The blue-green lines winding beneath my skin. The way they stood out against my pale winter complexion. Had they always been that prominent? Was I dehydrated? Was something wrong?<\/p>\n
I spent the next week surreptitiously studying other people\u2019s hands. The barista. My mother. The guy in the elevator. Some had veins like mine. Some didn\u2019t. I found no pattern, no answer, just a growing awareness that I had no idea what was normal and what wasn\u2019t.<\/p>\n
Finally, I asked my doctor. She laughed (kindly) and said, \u201cYou have fair skin and low body fat. Your veins are supposed to be visible. That\u2019s not a problem\u2014that\u2019s \u00a0anatomy<\/span><\/a>.\u201d<\/p>\n