- Whenever I wear sweatpants, the bottom of them ends up going underneath my sneakers when I walk. And just on the right leg. Leaving the bottom of the right leg of all my sweatpants to be significantly more tattered than the left ones.
- In baseball in high school, we used to sit on the ground and put our feet flat on the grass, with our knees bent, and lean back. This was to work our cores, but every once in a while, for the entire two minutes we would do it, I'd be wondering why I can't get my right foot planted on the grass. Only took me about 50 times of doing that to realize it.
- This is where the volume comes in. And by volume, I mean my left foot is bigger than my right foot. I just started wearing some new (and by new, I mean I got these sneakers in August and have worn them six times since) sneakers, and I can move my toes way more comfortably in my right shoe than my left shoe. Sucks to suck.
What I'm wondering (and I'm legitimately curious about this (which should come as no surprise to anyone who's read a decent number of my blog posts)) is whether or not leg size has to do with hand dominance. I definitely thought I wrote a blog post talking about hand dominance, but after searching to no avail, maybe it never came to fruition. Anyway, is the leg that's longer/foot that's bigger on the same side of you as your dominant hand? Where do you fall into this? Does it mean anything that this [could be] the case? Is there any better way to end this post than with multiple rhetorical questions? (No seriously, I really don't like how that feels. I need me some closure.)
Judging by that parenthetical comment, apparently not. Except apparently so, because I just did it. I need to stop this now. Here's a funny video.
ps. In reference to the title of this post...I had no title until after I was done with the whole thing, and thought about what would happen if the leg that was shorter got increasingly shorter as time went on...and that's what would happen.
No comments:
Post a Comment