This Reminds Me

Rachel had her fake French nails painted this weekend in a color I call ”Fiesta Gone Bad.”

Hic!  Your view from the sidewalk when you’ve had one margarita too many…..

I’m guessing she expected me to be shocked.

Yawn.

All through high school and then again in the mid-80′s, I had nails like these – and not fake, either, I’m way too cheap for that.  And yes, I painted them myself.  For the birthday of a friend or relative, I’d do a monogrammed nail in his or her favorite colors.  I did holiday nails – hearts, little bunnies, eggs, ghosts, Christmas trees, American flags and once a turkey, though it looked more like a bruise.

Note the Texas flag on my left thumb.  I’m right-handed, so my left nails were always more elaborate.  I changed them out weekly.

Though I now think the greatest luxury in life is a(n occassional) pedicure, I don’t paint my fingernails any longer.  Once a week on the bus – when no one is sitting in the line of fire of a projectile thumb nail - I give them a once-over with the ever-so-handy clippers in my purse, followed by a quick filing.  If it’s been a busy day, I might have to dig out a lunch remnant or two.  I rub the ends of my fingers along my dress and if nothing catches – hey, I’m good.

I’ve been waiting for one of them to come home with a weird hair style.  Then I’m going to drag out the pictures of my pink rat tail.  Hot pink.  And curly.

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