24.8.08

Feral




Last week, I was dangerous. I threw caution to the wind and got acrylic nails...After turning down the "Perfect Pink" treatment three times, I finally got what I wanted--slightly rounded tips, a beautiful coffee with cream color. God knows why I wanted them...call it a strange impulse/morbid curiosity that developed while stuck in traffic listening to Lite FM. I chose a clean-looking place near my old college whose sign billowed in the wind "15 Years Experiences, Clean and Sanitized." I was greeted by a Vietnamese man who ushered me to a table. The color scheme was peach and white and posters hung on the wall advertising Mango Heaven and Champagne-flavored treatments that talked in faux-scientific spa language.

The process of making my nails glamorous took an hour of buffing, clipping, glueing, buffing more, and filing. Finally I was done and hurried to meet my friends for dinner. We discussed Michael Phelps and gossipy co-workers, and ate marvelous pizza with pepperoni and olives on it. Yet, my eyes kept traveling downward to my glorious fingernails...my Scarlett O'Hara hands. I gesticulated wildly, tossed my hair, patted the tops of people's hands, and used the word "honey."

Then, I went to the bathroom and realized it was a mite difficult to unzip my pants. Like a woman waking up to her husband's farts after an ill-conceived elopement in Vegas, I realized my nails were not a match made in heaven.

The evening continued and I couldn't pull out my credit card to pay...I got face lotion stuck under my nails as I prepared for bed. And the next day, horror of horrors, I couldn't open a can of Diet Coke without using a ruler as a lever.

Typing at work--and I'm a writer so all I do is type--was complicated. I'd miss letters or my nails would slip to "&" instead of "y." Do you realize how often anyone uses the letter "y"? It's devastating how often I use it and every few minutes "&" kept showing up as if G-d was punishing me for my vanity.

A week later, I was so disgusted I tried to take them off, but found they were glued tight. So I took my nail clippers and hacked them to a more reasonable length, leaving a holocaust of acrylic in the sink, relishing an almost bloodlust coursing through my veins.

Then I realised that they weren't even and I felt a bit like the girl with the Red Shoes. I would never be free of them unless I went back to "15 Years Experiences" or somewhere else. So I painted my stubby acrylics princess pink and put lotion on my hands and an ice compress on my face and thought..."Tomorrow, is another day."

2 comments:

Olga said...

yet another funny post. When you told me you got acrylics, I thought you glued them on yourself for some reason.

sounds like a fun experience: sorry, you are unacustomed to them: I feel the opposite--can't handle short nails.

remember when we used to get together and watch tv and paint our toenails?

Cara said...

Hilarious Paige! I had acryllic nails once - for prom. I couldn't stand them for very long!

That was adventurous of you, though. Next up - a pedicure ;-)