nail polish and why it seems to defy me and define me

4:26 PM


I paint my nails almost every Sunday religiously. It feels like a productive start to the week. I aim for darker colors, as my personality dictates: black, dark blue, deep red (a Red I can see eye to eye with). I never don't get polish on my skin, I always end up re-doing at least one finger, and there is almost always a chip by the time I go to sleep.

Almost three years ago, while moving, Rayce dropped a shelf on the middle finger of my right hand. Since that day, my nail has never been able to grow past the point of barely peeking over the tip of my finger. It's thin and brittle and peels off if I look at it wrong. It's best used as my "flip off" finger and it's almost embarrassing if it comes to that. I feel no one will ever take my aggression seriously if that is what they're faced with in my moment of anger. After years of biting my nails and finally kicking that habit for good, I now have a finger that will never reach full potential. I can give up any dream of being a hand model.

This week, that nail seems to be the one affected by the smudging and the chipping. I'm not entirely sure when it happened, but it looks mangled enough and it's the shortest of the ten so I feel it's just a sentiment to my life as of late. I seem to correlate the state of my nails with the state of my existence. I feel better at the beginning of the week when things are put together. Simple tasks like typing or texting or reaching for something feel a lot more complete and important when I have a fresh, un-tortured coat on. As the week continues I slowly crack, as does the polish. It isn't noticeable at first, but with each day and each hour, small pieces of what was put together are falling without acknowledgment. By Friday, I am missing chunks of paint and chunks of myself. It seems to come full circle. I hide my hands if at all possible, even if it's completely apparent that I am (there have been comments). I was once told that it was sexy that I let my nails go to hell for weeks on end. That was the last time I went more than a week in between lacquers.

It's almost poetic really. That day, I was wearing red polish. That was also the last time I wore that color.


You Might Also Like

0 speaks

sup fool.