The first time I noticed my fingers changing colors was my junior year of high school. It was January and I had just finished my last final for the semester. I was outside with a group of my friends waiting for my dad to pick me up when I looked down at my hands. They were pale white and they hurt, bad. They felt like they were burning, but burning like when you touch something that’s too cold. I tried to blow on them to warm them up because they felt like ice. Then they began to turn blue. As the pain continued, my dad told me with a straight face not to worry, that my fingers were just falling off. Then he had to calm me down after I convinced myself I had frost bite and was going to be fingerless. Keep reading »
