Sinistromanual or cack-handed?

My Mum's theory is that I 'made' myself left-handed by not crawling as a baby. Before learning to walk I'd put my right hand out on the floor and drag my padded behind towards it. Apparently I could get up quite a speed! Thus it was my left hand that was free to cram things into my mouth and wave my smiley, orange plastic spoon around. So it was only natural that when I started to crayon the walls or grab the cat, it would be with my left hand.
I've always been proud of being left-handed, despite the trials and tribulations. I was always dreadfully co-ordinated which is why I was sent to ballet lessons aged 5. Despite weekly dance classes, exams, shows and all kinds of performances, my co-ordination didn't really improve that much. I was always slow to pick up choreography because my feet and arms didn't naturally understand where they were supposed to go. To this day I have to be careful performing complicated manoeuvres with pans on the hob and things in the oven so I don't burn myself or set the kitchen on fire.
I was very slow to learn how to tie shoelaces; in fact for years I did it a different 'left-handed' way and only learned how to do it 'properly' in my late 20s. (I maintain that my left-handed bow is more symmetrical and harder to loosen than it's conventional cousin).
Anyway, a proud left-hander I, due to being a little bit different. One of 11% of the population. Using an inkpen was a trial - it's almost impossible not to smudge  and, thank goodness I didn't become a teacher because my writing always sloped downhill. Although I quickly learned the alphabets, I have always been slow to read Arabic and Hebrew. My eyes just won't travel at speed across a page right to left, although when writing, deep joy, no smudging!
Back in 1997 I did a short work-sponsored course in sign language. A complete fiasco because I did everything backwards. Who knew what I was signing and finger-spelling! For this reason I was always careful not to make the 'L for Loser' sign on my forehead as, I would likely be the loser!
Then there's the discrimination. It's not intentional these days (my grandmother's generation would have had their left had tied behind their back had they tried to write with it and traditionally being left-handed was a sign of the devil), but it's there. Go and look in the mugs in your kitchen. How many of them have the design all the way round and how many on one side? The right side, I'll wager. At university, those seats with a little shelf where you balanced your notebook? Mostly fixed on the right side so I had to sit sideways to take notes. 
The point of this blogpost is to question whether I can still call myself left-handed. I don't think I did any writing yesterday or the day before, not even my signature. Writing is an activity I do less and less. I use my laptop mouse and text with my right hand. I can use my left, but it's slow and uncomfortable. Typing is an activity shared equally by both as I can touchtype. So have I, through my use of technology, myself right-handed or ambidextrous? Or is there no such thing anymore? Is 'handedness' like gender and sexuality something that will become increasingly fluid? Are we 'post-handed'?
I was thinking about other activities. You wouldn't want me using a knife in my right hand, but there's something about scissors in my left - the blades don't connect. I can't cut the fingernails on my right hand. My handbag won't stay on my right shoulder and I can't successfully get a spoon to my mouth in my right hand, but were I to have a golf or guitar lesson, I would be right. Also jars and bottles; jars - right, bottles - left. Where did that come from? Ironing, not that I ever do any these days, but when I did I was equally comfortable using either. Oh, and driving. Whoever decided that we should drive on the left and have the gear stick on the left should be sainted and feted. You're the reason I passed my test first time. I'd probably still be learning to drive now, were it not for you!
I'm sure none of these things matter. I'm quite certain no-one is doing doctoral research into this subject. Most people probably never consider it. I think, though, because of the serious little girl with pink NHS specs who always started her 'e's in the wrong place and has her own way of tying a bow, I will continue to be a proud southpaw. Mancino, smoleet, sinestra. Whatever you care to call it.