I have nails. For the first time in my life, I have nails. They’re kind of nice, too. Yesterday, I went ahead and got my first ever manicure to celebrate their arrival. I spent 20 bucks (that includes a tip.) They were so pretty and pink and shiny and I found that I kept looking at them reminding myself that they are really my own wondering if they are here to stay. I told Tobyjoe that I plan on becoming one of those girly wives, the kind that spend money at the spa and wear dresses and get hairdos and wear lipstick. He said that was fine. (What a great man I found.) And so I went ahead and booked a facial and a massage.
Today, I noticed something strange on my left pointer finger. It seemed that the paint on one of my nails was bubbling up a bit. At the very top, near where the nail curves down toward the side, I noticed that the paint seemed to be coming up from nail. I was so sad and so I chose to ignore it.
The problem is, I couldn’t ignore it. I kept thinking about it. The impulsive desire to take another fingernail and peel it up was almost too much to deal with. But I fought the urge. I knew that it would only last a split second and then I’d be left with only 9 shiny nails.
About an hour ago, the whole piece of paint lifted up and I had no choice but to peel it back. At first, it was exciting, but then it felt like I had just torn a 20-dollar bill in half.
Now, I have 9 beautiful shiny fingernails and one regular one and I’m 20-dollars poorer.
I have nothing to compare this to. Sure, I have had pedicures. I had one that lasted nearly 6 months. (They chipped, but they were troopers.) Is this normal? I am so annoyed right now.