I have the sharpest elbow. Yes, elbow, not elbows. It's the right one. Obviously.

Trust that I want to regale you with tales that go against my very nature. Bludgeoning. Perhaps a fairytale like instance whereby I was attacked in the woods by some mystical beast, and just before its outsized incisors clamped down firmly on my exposed throat, down came a haymaker that hit like a spearhead, my right elbow thrust straight through the beast's skull.

Never happened.


The truth is the brunt of my beefy arm joint is felt by my long-sleeved outerwear. It is a bit of a mystery to me, but somehow my right elbow has burrowed its way through 3 sweatshirts, 2 pairs of long johns,  and a handful of long sleeve button-downs to boot. This means that on any given day I can throw on a T-shirt, dress shirt, long johns, and a sweatshirt and leave the house with an exposed elbow. I have been laughed at, mostly by my wife.

This guy knows what I'm talking about

One of the secondary questions of this anomaly that greatly perplexes me is, "What made my left elbow go so soft?"

It is not noticeably less pointy then righty, and yet it has hardly managed to scuff the same materials that its brother melts right past. Is my left elbow more of a paciFIST? Is it a yin yang sort of deal, where they balance each other out. Like, if I lost my left arm in some sort of traffic accident, would the deviance and destruction in my right elbow, previously held in check, come forth to drive my towards a life of cruelty and perpetuating injustice? If that's the case then one could argue that it is actually my left elbow that holds the greater power, not only holding my aggression in check, but convincing my greater consciousness towards pacifism and kindness.

I don't have answers. Mostly because my arms don't have mouths. Rest assured, however, that I'm going to continue to lean on them real hard until I get some answers.