Thumb Shaving
Chop, chop, chop, chop. The snappy sound of cutting vegetables. But I was paying attention to the noise of the knife when I should have been paying attention to its downward path. The blade was sharp, so my thumb didn’t hurt at all as a large red droplet quickly grew from the frayed tip.
Another disaster to add to the 2020 column. I dabbed the bleeding and applied a sturdy bandaid. Where would we all be without bandaids? I realized I hadn’t finished making dinner; my stomach growled and my thumb started to hurt.
Although initially disruptive and painful, I was surprised when this minor trauma turned into a blessing. In the days that followed, the bandaid stayed securely in place on the end of my left thumb. And I quickly noticed a change in my mood. Over and over, I would reach for my phone and press the home button to ignite the screen, but the bandaid was in the way. The bandaid was protecting me from myself.
Yes, I was gravely injured. But the wound forced me to reevaluate how my fingers interact with the world. I didn’t notice the bandaid during most activities; I guess I rarely use the tip of my thumb. But, when I tried to use a handheld touchscreen, I was useless. So, sometimes, I put down my phone.
This fabric barrier led to a small, but significant reduction in my phone time. When the bandaid did finally come off, my thumb was still somewhat raw and sore, so the effect lingered. Before this cooking accident, my phone use had been on a steady upward trajectory for months. I had even been looking for new strategies to reduce my dependence. This all got me thinking.
At what point do we start routinely trimming the tips of our thumbs? In order to reduce our screen time?
It could start as voluntary program, to ease people in. Once everyone understood the many health benefits, we could get the procedure covered by insurance and, eventually, mandated by law. Like childhood vaccinations. And, similar to those vaccinations, some exceptions would be made for stubborn people who, “really need to use the tip of their thumb,” or some other such outlandish excuse.
I’m confident the program would see widespread support from the community, but there may be political resistance. The Big Tech lobby would not let this practice become widespread and approved of without a fight. If millions of Americans began regularly shaving off the tips of their thumbs, Apple stock would plummet. Google search traffic would slow to a trickle. Fantasy football lineups would be neglected and no one would know the weather (unless they went outside into it). Emails would pile up, the calculator app would collect dust, and retweets would become less common and more meaningful. The Tech industry would stand to lose big.
So, they would spend a lot of money to frame thumb-shaving as somehow brutal or gruesome or barbaric. They might smear our ideas as “absolutely sick and unacceptable” or “the greatest threat to our civil liberties since” yada yada yada. It would be an uphill battle. But, the evidence would be on our side. We would assemble a broad, grassroots coalition, we would resist corporate greed, and, together, we would ensure that every American has access to this essential preventative health measure.
If we don’t get this messaging right the first time, we might not get a second chance in the court of public opinion. There is a potential scenario where the spurious claims of our political opponents become accepted by a large segment of the population, enough to prevent thumb-shaving legislation from passing at the federal level. That would be a disappointment.
But, this too could be to our eventual advantage. With a little encouragement from our undercover change agents, pro-thumb activists would start wearing thumb protective equipment as a protest against thumb-shaving. These thumb shields would start simple, adapted from existing cloth thumb braces, but they would quickly become elaborate and jaunty. A marketplace for custom or rare thumb apparel would spring up. Celebrities would join in, wearing bedazzled thumb sheaths when making an appearance. Small thumb armor would become chic.
Eventually, people may even forget that it all started with a campaign to try and trim everyone’s thumbs. From our perspective, that would still be a win. Let’s put a protective layer in-between the thumb and phone of every American.
It has been weeks since my accident, and my thumb has now made a full recovery. Unsurprisingly, my phone usage has rebounded to at least pre-injury levels. As it turns out, I have no accountability and very little control. I need help and I need oversight, from an adult. It is so dang easy to press that button! So easy, in fact, that the button doesn’t physically depress. Even with the lightest of skin-to-button contact the screen suddenly glows, suffusing you with astringent warmth like its many chemical relatives.
More than once, I’ve looked longingly at the knife in its block, wishing I had the fucking guts. But I’m a coward. So instead I’ve been chopping lots of vegetables, too many for the meals I’m preparing, just hoping for a slip-up. But this is something that can’t be forced on oneself. A lot like tickling. Like tickling your thumb with a knife.
If only a doctor recommended I have it done, and then someone else, a third party, paid to make sure the procedure was as safe, effective, and painless as possible. Then I’d be the first in line. Call your congressperson today, and ask them if they support government subsidies for preventative thumb-shaving procedures. Find out if they are on the right side of history. Find out if they care about the health of the American people.
