The Messy Start
Okay, so this Felix hand size thing just kept popping up everywhere online. People arguing, making crazy claims. I got curious. How big is Felix’s hand, really? Honestly? I had no clue. None of the threads had proof. Just guesswork. So, I decided, screw it, I’m gonna find out myself. Seemed simple enough, right? Grab a ruler, measure, done. Boy, was I wrong.
Operation: Measure Felix
First step: Get Felix on board. This guy Felix? He’s not some celebrity, just my slightly weird neighbor who happens to have noticeably big hands everyone talks about at block parties. I marched over there yesterday afternoon, tape measure in hand, feeling weirdly official. Knocked. Felix opened the door looking confused. “Hey Felix,” I said, trying to sound casual, “Can I measure your hands?” He stared. Blinked. Then burst out laughing. “You for real? My hands?” He looked down at them like he’d never noticed them before. Took some convincing, a promise of cookies later, but he finally shrugged. “Alright, man, whatever floats your boat. Go nuts.”
Actually Measuring Them Was Chaos
This is where the plan fell apart. Holding a tape measure steady? Trickier than it looks. First try, I flung it open, kinda threw it across his palm like I was casting a fishing line. Tried pinning one end near his wrist with my elbow while stretching it to his middle fingertip. Tape curled up. Fingers weren’t flat. “Dude, relax your hand!” I’m yelling. Felix is giggling, which made it worse. My cat picked that exact moment to dive bomb the tape thinking it was a string toy. Total disaster. Probably took like 10 minutes just to get one decent palm width reading, scribbling numbers on the back of an old pizza coupon I found in my pocket.
The Weird Stuff I Found Out
After the battle with the tape measure (and the cat), I finally had some messy numbers. Comparing them to stuff? That got interesting fast. Forget celebrity comparisons – we did kitchen science. Here’s the wild stuff that came out of it:
- His palm width? Wider than the jar of pickles Felix had just opened. Seriously. Wider than a whole damn pickle jar. Couldn’t wrap your fingers around that jar? Felix basically engulfed it.
- Hand span (thumb to pinky stretched)? Covered my old paperback almost completely. Book disappeared under his grip. Like, only the corners poked out. It was unsettling seeing it vanish.
- Middle finger length? Easily longer than a banana. We held a banana up against his finger. Yeah. Outpaced the banana. Didn’t even need the tape for that shocker, just fruit comparison.
- Gripping power? Less measurable, but terrifying. He casually crumpled a full soda can into a tiny ball in his fist. One squeeze. It wasn’t effort; it was annihilation. Can just folded like paper. Made me glad I’d bribed him with cookies first.
- Compared to mine? Pathetic. Putting my hand next to his felt like a child’s toy hand against a bear paw. Instant, crushing inadequacy right there on the kitchen counter.
So… What’s the Verdict?
Big. Really, stupidly, banana-beating big. Officially? Didn’t exactly get perfect numbers thanks to feline interference and Felix-induced giggles. But practically? Comparing that mitt to everyday objects drove it home way harder than any exact centimeter count ever could. He just shook his head the whole time, saying, “Man, they’re just hands.” Yeah, right. Tell that to the crushed soda can and the humiliated banana. The weirdest part? Seeing how normal it was for him. He uses those massive things for stuff like texting tiny buttons on his phone, which looks comically tiny in his grasp. Proof that you just get used to what you have, I guess. Would I do it again? Probably not. My tape measure still smells faintly of pickles. But hey, curiosity satisfied. Mostly. I still kinda wonder how he handles chopsticks.
