Since I don’t have arms, as a child I didn’t play with plasticine and I didn’t draw houses. I’ve played football, but I’ve never been a goalkeeper and I’ve never performed a throw-in. My sexual life started with a woman, I can’t masturbate. I’ve never drunk nor eaten by myself. I can’t pray, ride a bike or a motorcycle. I find it impossible to play a musical instrument. The experience of cutting the nails and the sensation of putting a ring on are unfamiliar to me. I can’t put my vote into the ballot-box and I can’t expect a new government to give me the arms which life has denied me. It would be fantastic if I could write this, but I have to dictate it to my friend Juan who’s looking at me and smiling. I wink at him, as a sign of approval, a substitute for the real gesture of giving the thumbs up.
I haven’t had an accident and I wasn’t maimed, I was born like this. When my mother gave birth to me, the midwife waited for the arms to come out. My family made up for the deficiency through love, dedication and infinite patience.
I can’t do manual jobs like my dad, who’s a blacksmith, or my brother, who’s a dentist. “You’re lucky that you don’t work!”, my uncle Eduardo often says joking. I’ve learned how to do some things with feet, like using the TV remote controller. I like a programme called “Science and Technology”. It was said the other day that in the near future it would be possible to do many things without using hands, with devices which respond to acustic stimuli.
I’m looking at my friend and I ask him: “Hey, Juan, do you happen to be a device that responds to acustic stimuli?”. Juan’s laughing.