Mutant and Proud

I am a mutant.

Not that kind of mutant, the fun kind, but I am one just the same.

I can't read people's minds, fly, or control the weather, but I can curl my tongue, rhyme off semi-useful information about dinosaurs and Star Wars characters (no small feat, I assure you), and I used to be able to do this:

As mutants go, I'm pretty average-looking. No fur (though I am kind of hairy), blue skin, scales or spikes. Mainly just a bump on my left hand left over from a sixth finger.

Not as cool as a set of Adamantium claws, but still a decent conversation starter

I do share one thing with those other mutants though.

Shortly after learning about my "gift" seven years ago, I was welcomed into a group of others with similar mutations.

I haven't yet battled any giant robots, jetted off to the Savage Land, or been played by Hugh Jackman on the silver screen, but I did meet a whole bunch of folks similar in age to me while at a resort in Arizona last summer, so that's pretty awesome.

This mutation is something I was born with. I think I've done a pretty decent job living with it for thirty-three years now and, like those other Marvelous mutants, I'm using my gifts to help others like me understand theirs a little better, and provide a positive image for all the "normals" out there who might not understand.

Cheers