When someone names a polish Miraculous Mauve, I might be able to polish my nails without also polishing my fingertips. Until then, I'll happily pay a manicurist to do my nails.
Unfortunately, manicured nails weren't enough for me. During one of many, mini, mid-life crises, I decided I wanted long nails. Deciding to have long nails, however, was easier than growing them.
I broke nails when I cleaned and when I cooked. Once I broke a nail just closing my car door. Soon I discovered the only thing worse than ten short nails is one short nail.
Frequently I had to have a plastic nail tip glued onto a broken nail. Nevertheless, if someone asked me if they were my nails, I'd say yes. I'd paid for the fake nail; so yes, it and the other nine were mine.
Yes, it was difficult to do such things as dial phones, use keyboards and unfasten seat belts; but there was also a benefit of having long nails - I didn't clench my fists anymore when I was tense.
I'm one of those people who try to do at least three things at the same time, but not when my polish is drying. Because I literally don't lift a finger for twenty minutes, I think the IRS should allow me to deduct the cost of manicures as relaxation therapy.
Sometimes when I travel, my fingers have to walk through the yellow pages to find a manicurist. Sometimes when I find one, she hasn't found a new color since Ruby Red.
Then there was the mountain vacation, three miles from nowhere. While driving to our hotel, my younger son amusingly announced he saw where I could go if I broke a nail. It wasn't a nail salon. It was an emergency room.
I must live in the nail capitol of the world. Not only do Southern California salons have a rainbow of colors to choose from, you can have your nails decorated with decals and rhinestones. You can have your nails pierced for nail rings.
In Southern California nails make a statement. The statement mine makes is the promise of long nails is often a broken promise.
