Wednesday, January 19, 2011


So I just had my first manicure.
I am amazed at how many people, women mostly, find that hard to believe. I made it into my 50's without ever getting a manicure. I am sure there are plenty of other granola eating, tree hugging, child of the 60's, mixed-media artist types who consider their fingernails tools more than items of adornment. I guess I haven't met very many of them. But the thought that goes through my head is, "What? Pay someone money to paint color on my fingernails when I can manage to get plenty of paint, ink and glue on them myself? Thanks, but no thanks."
Then, a few weeks ago it was my sister's birthday. And my other sisters decided we should take her to a salon and treat her to a nice manicure and pedicure. And they decided that if she was getting a mani-pedi, then we all should or else she would feel uncomfortable. The idea was that we would all be sitting in a row, getting our manicures, yakking away and having a sister-bonding moment, like something out of a chick flick. So I consented to getting a manicure.
Let me just say - no sister bonding, no yakking, no scene out of a chick flick.
We were all in different parts of the salon. The only person I spoke with was the very animated young man who looked like he was in high school, who had been called in just to work on our nails, who kept showing me his gel nail treatment to talk me into getting that, and tried to talk me into getting gun metal metallic color. My attempts to talk about anything of substance went nowhere. I was glad when it was all over.
Yes, my nails look faaaaabulous. Deep metallic bronze will do that.
Did I mention I use my nails as tools? I know how thick they are, and exactly how to pry, shift, texturize or grip things. But this manicure threw the universe out of balance. It changed the shape and thickness of my nails. I feel like I have aliens on my fingers.
But that kid in the nail salon with the penchant for inane chatter was right. This gel nail polish is tough! For 3 weeks I did all kinds of chores, cleaned out a carport, did paperwork, sorted art supplies, made handbound books with assemblage covers, groomed my dog, and got used to having aliens on my fingers.
Not one chip or crack or nick on my fingernails. And all the paint and ink and glue slid right off.
Now, if I could figure out how to get this without having to pay someone, or put up with their inane chatter.