Tuesday, July 3, 2012
An Artist's Hands
I generally DO NOT have pretty nails.
I mean . . .really - why bother.
OK - truth be told -
I used to go and have my nails done every two weeks no matter what.
It was a vanity thing.
Don't judge me too harshly.
I have short stubby fingers and short stubby toes.
Seriously - I know this to be true.
Nothing you can say will change my mind.
A boyfriend in high school told me my toes reminded him of Fred Flinstone.
For that reason - I used to spend money every two weeks to have acrylic nails on my hands.
I didn't wear them very long - I mean I needed to be practical.
But having a little length on my nails helped me feel like my hands weren't quite so stubby.
Then one day - I realized I was wasting my money.
I would get them all pretty and then go home and get them all covered in paint.
So I stopped wearing them.
And I haven't had polish on them in a couple of years.
Until the other night.
My daughter is in cosmetology school.
She regularly needs models to perform her skills on.
She asked if I wanted to come in for a mani-pedi.
After all of the craziness going on - the idea of going downtown and being pampered for two hours was quite enticing.
I walked in with paint in my cuticles and under my nails and uneven, messy toes.
I was tortured for 2 hours with foot and hand massages, warm towels, relaxing aromatherapy oils, silky lotions and red polish.
Not just red - shiny, candied apple red.
I didn't get to choose the color - it was required for her "test".
Red is pretty unforgiving and the instructor can easily see the flaws.
And you know . . .
someone needed to be the model.
And after all - a mother makes these kinds of sacrifices for her daughter.
Matching toes and fingers.
And me - relaxed and pampered.