nail gazing
For the first time ever, we have plans for New Years Eve. And I'm sitting here, looking at my fingers, or more specifically my nails, debating whether or not I can last through the week without hacking them off and ruining any chances of getting a decent manicure.
I'm not big on the nails. At some point in the past fifteen years, the idea of finger-nails-as-status-symbols got into my head and totally backfired. Instead of growing my nails or resorting to press-on varieties, I went the opposite route: cut to the quick, unpolished and sporting raggety cuticles. So very ungirly of me.
When I was in high school, I decided blunt nails were a testiment to having a job and, more importantly being a "writer," whatever that entailed. Never mind that I was sixteen and lacking an agent, a book deal, or even a semi-regular byline in the school paper at that point. In my head "real writers" couldn't possibly type with inch-long, blood-red talons, and I wasn't about to try.
(The mindset was probably skewed by my later career as a designer, where work is more dependant upon the nail-friendly point-n-click repetition of QuarkXPress, but still the habit persists.)
On the rare occasion I was pressed into getting a manicure (acrylic french nails for my cousin's wedding, for example), it wouldn't last. At the first chip in the color, the same compulsion which pushes me to pick labels off wine bottles and pick at sunburns would rise up, and I would pull away thick chunks of Arrest Me Red, taking the top layer of nail with it, not caring if my finger felt squicked for the next week. If I had fake nails, I'd dangle my fingers in any number of solvents Adam had in the garage to get them off, get them off, for the love of God, GET THEM OFF!
And yet, here I am, contemplating my nails.
Do I get a manicure? We're going out for sushi with some of our friends and I was planning on dressing up, so having decent nails might be nice, and the shoes demand a pedicure, so there's that. Then again, I didn't bother with my nails for my own wedding, so maybe not. And if I do decide to get a manicure, can I make it until Saturday? My nails grew to about p6 while I wasn't paying attention. And I'm not good about having nails, usually, and the more thought I put into it, the more I'm going to go crazy. Can I keep from going crazy? Just this once? Or should I schedule an appointment for later this week, and then try to touch-up on my own?
Questions I can't answer.
I'm not big on the nails. At some point in the past fifteen years, the idea of finger-nails-as-status-symbols got into my head and totally backfired. Instead of growing my nails or resorting to press-on varieties, I went the opposite route: cut to the quick, unpolished and sporting raggety cuticles. So very ungirly of me.
When I was in high school, I decided blunt nails were a testiment to having a job and, more importantly being a "writer," whatever that entailed. Never mind that I was sixteen and lacking an agent, a book deal, or even a semi-regular byline in the school paper at that point. In my head "real writers" couldn't possibly type with inch-long, blood-red talons, and I wasn't about to try.
(The mindset was probably skewed by my later career as a designer, where work is more dependant upon the nail-friendly point-n-click repetition of QuarkXPress, but still the habit persists.)
On the rare occasion I was pressed into getting a manicure (acrylic french nails for my cousin's wedding, for example), it wouldn't last. At the first chip in the color, the same compulsion which pushes me to pick labels off wine bottles and pick at sunburns would rise up, and I would pull away thick chunks of Arrest Me Red, taking the top layer of nail with it, not caring if my finger felt squicked for the next week. If I had fake nails, I'd dangle my fingers in any number of solvents Adam had in the garage to get them off, get them off, for the love of God, GET THEM OFF!
And yet, here I am, contemplating my nails.
Do I get a manicure? We're going out for sushi with some of our friends and I was planning on dressing up, so having decent nails might be nice, and the shoes demand a pedicure, so there's that. Then again, I didn't bother with my nails for my own wedding, so maybe not. And if I do decide to get a manicure, can I make it until Saturday? My nails grew to about p6 while I wasn't paying attention. And I'm not good about having nails, usually, and the more thought I put into it, the more I'm going to go crazy. Can I keep from going crazy? Just this once? Or should I schedule an appointment for later this week, and then try to touch-up on my own?
Questions I can't answer.
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