Nails and Nothings

There was a chip of nail polish missing from the tip of my right hand’s pointer earlier this evening. With CSI-like vision, I noticed it while waiting for the show I was watching to come back on. I was surprised to be surprised at finally finding a chink in the armor of my perfectly manicured nails.
I’d been looking for it since I first got them painted. But no, this isn’t the first time I’ve had my nails done. After some time of going without a manicure and (proper) nail biting, my nails we’re beginning to feel like an unwashed pair of socks. Then I finally got the chance to have one. The best part was I didn’t spend for it and I got a foot massage to boot! After quite a long week and a long day, I finally collapsed on to my bed, Sunday night, still half worried my nails would smudge or smear.
Despite my fears, exhaustion soon had me in the vice grip of sleep. I thus proceeded to dream about my nails. They had gotten all smudged and chipped. I liked the color so much however, that I was still showing them off to some people. It’s a bit hazy now, but the most clear person I remember in the dream is my four year old cousin. Weird huh?

But despite my “nightmare” I woke up the next day with still perfect nails. You can imagine I was quite pleased. However over the next few days I developed a certain obsession with keeping them in check. Their color is somewhere between lavender and pink. A lighter magenta, maybe. I checked at Watson’s a while ago and saw they had a bottled of what looked like the same color. It was called Cashmere. I came out of Watson’s without it.

I don’t know what it is: why I’m so OC about my nails, particularly now. Maybe it’s because at the parlor everyone said it was a good color. I agreed it was. Also, aside from my family and those who were with me at the parlor (my mom, my aunt, two church mates and our American guest), no one has seen my newly manicured nails and it would seem a bit of a shame for them to crack and chip without me having properly shown them off.

Yet, even if I could have, I did not buy my own bottle of the same nail polish because I’m on a rather tight budget. Hence, I decided not to get something to fill in the gaps because there were none at the time anyway. But now I’ve found two gaps: the one on my pointer and a new one on my right thumb. I figured I must have gotten them while peeling a hardboiled egg. The egg, coincidentally was not thoroughly boiled and so still had runny yolk. I was pretty annoyed. I was even more so pissed when I realized I had sacrificed bits of my nails.

My nails are the part of my body I see most often. They are right in my face when I type, write or draw and even when I do chores. I do a lot with my hands. For as long as I remember, I’ve been rather obsessive with them. When I was four years old, I caught my mom nibbling hers. I decided to try it and hadn’t been able to stop until I was 21. That was when I decided I wanted pretty girl nails that I could paint. So for weeks I watched them grow without biting them as much as I could. It got easier as they got longer and thicker. That was really a job for the nail cutter.
So far I’ve tried a boring old rose color, purple, metallic white, blue and brown with French tips. I haven’t had that many manicures. In fact I started with applying my own polish. But a manicure always feels better. They seem to sand, scrub and pick at all those parts you can’t get. I’ll admit it feels a bit painful and raw. But there’s nothing like the feeling of having nice nails.

It’s a shallow, silly, vain thing. But I really can’t stand something out of place with my nails. Not sure why: maybe it's because their a part of my very important appendages: my fingers. Maybe it's because I can see them and do whatever I want with them. Whatever the reason is, all I know is I get this urge to bite them when if they don't look right. Rrrrr…