While getting a polish change a few weeks ago, my beloved Rosie--whose disposition matches her name--noticed that my nails were patchy and slightly, shudder, yellow. "It's because you always have polish on," she said. Now in the midst of a full-blown existential crisis--"without my fancy polish what am I?!"--I filed this information away for another time, outwardly remaining calm while quietly panic-strucken.
A few weeks went by; as I went in yesterday and signed in for a mani/pedi service, it was as much of a shock to me as to Rosie when she asked me to pick out my color, only to hear my reply: "no color today."
This must sound silly to the majority of you who:
a. get your nails done only once in a while
b. have enough in your life to keep you otherwise busy and fulfilled.
But for little ol' June, this is a tectonic shift on a scale unseen since I dusted off my flat iron and attempted to do my own hair--to no avail. Now I just walk around with a vintage scarf and big earrings to detract from "the hair."
So how does it feel? Free, liberating, and gosh-darn-it, I'd forgotten just how cute my toes were, unencumbered by bright red polish. Who knows? This may force me to stop trying to make everything else in my life seem "right" and just accept the pretty within. Or not.
Always striving for better,
June
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