What I finally came up with was my nails. They're a hot mess, and the cuticles are even worse. I tried to take a picture of them, but the battery on my camera died mid-shot. As it turns out, all those videos I made the other day of Bella's limping sucked the last bit of life out of the lithium batteries, and I haven't felt like going to Walmart to get more. I've seen all of Walmart I care to see this week.
My nails haven't always been a hot mess. They actually used to be rather nice. In high school, I wouldn't even leave the house unless my manicure was perfect. Then I went to college, got assigned to the admission's office for my work study, and quickly learned the kind of damage that filing and data entry could do to nails and cuticles. After college came law school. I was lucky if I got four hours of sleep a night during that phase of my life. There was no way I was going to cut that amount down to three hours just to do my nails.
The neglect continued at my last job. I rarely did my nails because I found that, when I did, the polish quickly chipped due to all the typing I had to do. Plus, too much length made typing rather difficult.
Fast forward to now. The neglect continues, and I really have no excuse for it other than I just don't feel like doing anything to them. Most days I feel bad about that fact, but not today. For one day only, I'm going to celebrate the hot mess with the following:
The Top Ten Reasons Why I Love My Short, Unpainted Nails or Why You Should Love Me for Them
- You'll never have to wait for my nails to dry before you can go out or to sleep.
- A pair of garden gloves can last me forever because I'm not afraid to go sans gloves and get dirty, unless it involves unidentifiable animal remains.
- I'm also not afraid of paint, ink, white out, paper edges, heat, hammers, or any other object or substance that might ruin my non-existent manicure. In other words, if you need a hand, I'm willing to lend one, maybe even two.
- If you go on a road trip with me, I can guarantee that you'll never be sickened by the smell of acetone and nail polish in a closed car. Gas or other foul smells, on the other hand, I can't guarantee.
- You'll never be distracted by or annoyed with me for talking with my nails. I had a classmate who did that at Rollins. I always felt like she was trying to conduct an orchestra with those two-inch tips instead of trying to make a point. It was all I could do not to reach over the table and rip those acrylic suckers off.
- Ditto on that nail drumming thing some women love to do.
- I rarely misdial a phone number or scratch a chalkboard due to having nails longer than my attention span.
- Unlike Chain Smoking Granny, I never have to worry about doing myself irreparable harm in some not-so-comfortable places while cleaning myself in the bathroom. (Have I mentioned that my grandmother's nails closely resemble the nails of Wolverine's brother Victor? No? Think about it though; my grandmother as a mutant might explain a lot.)
- I'm unlikely to leave claw marks/draw blood in the heat of passion. Of course, that could be a bad thing if you're into marking and/or blood, but, hey, I'm not judging. To each their own.
- If Donald Sutherland ever stops by, tells me that I'm the Chosen One and there are vampires, leaves me in a graveyard to prove it, and the next day throws a knife at my head,
and if I thereafter respond by punching Mr. Sutherland, you won't hear me say afterwards, "I didn't even break a nail."
No, I'm sure that whatever I will say will be a lot more colorful.
Tomorrow, however, I am going to swallow my pride and my Flat Ass Friday delusions; grab the cuticle cream, buffer, and emery board; and make my nails and cuticles more of a warm mess than a hot one.
When you're done reading this post or doing your own nails, be sure to check out today's post from Cheryl at That Girl is Funny. The link to that post should be with MckLinky below. Flat Ass Fridays was her idea, and she's been writing some really great posts for it. She even wrote one before I could today. I'm guessing that means she didn't eat soup last night like me.