Being beautiful is not easy

I went into the nail salon on Saturday for my twice a year manicure splurge. Not that spending $12 is going to make me or break me, I just don’t ever think about it until my nails are really long and one inevitably breaks while loading dishes or pulling on the car handle. At that painful moment, I regret my procrastinating ways as I head towards the bathroom in search of the clippers.

It was great. I got in, got seated, got my nails cut into that square shape I like and painted in a boring neutral color that would match any of the outfits I own. I might as well maximize the trip. Unfortunately, there is no happy ending to this story.

It’s really hard for me to talk about what happened. On the one hand (well, actually it ended up being on both), the nail polish lasted on my nails all about 40 minutes. I followed the rules and waited patiently for the stuff to dry, first al fresco, and then ten minutes under the lamp. It was super boring because you’ve got to keep both hands underneath the light, which makes it impossible to browse through the million magazines they’ve got spread out on top. Talk about fighting temptation. Oh well, I’ll just have to catch up on all the gossip next time I find myself waiting in line at the grocery store.

I managed to get home with just a tiny scratch on my little finger. I checked (carefully) that the nail polish had hardened before jumping in the shower to get ready for Saturday night. Maybe it was my fault because I like to shower with nearly boiling water, but all of a sudden I noticed the polish slowly melting away and realized there wasn’t a damned thing I could do to reverse the damage.

But that’s not all, friends. As the lady still happily worked on what we now know was a doomed manicure, she looked straight at my face and asked me nonchalantly if I was going to have my eyebrows fixed. Well… I hadn’t thought about it until you made a big deal about it. I guess I will. Who wants to walk around sporting a unibrow. So the lady leads the way into this small room and orders me to strech on the massage table. Weird, I think. Why do I need to lie down for her to use the tweez…? OUCH!! Did she just put some hot wax on my lid and rip it without compassion?

I am ok today, thank you, now that the shock and trauma are slowly fading away.

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