Tuesday, December 05, 2006

Obsessions Part Deux

I love the look of well-polished, taken care of fingernails. But not enough to attempt to grow my own. The nails have to be strong. I can't stand it when they bend and are flimsy. That is like running nails on a chalkboard to me.

My nails are not the best candidate to be beautiful. I am sure that it means that I am lacking in something in my diet. What I don't know ... calcium...vitamins...something.

I was sitting next to our church secretary last week in choir practice, and I looked at her nails. They were nicely done in a french manicure. I commented on them, and she said "two pairs...Wal Mart...$ 8.99."

I couldn't get those nails out of my mind. I HAD to have them.

I used to subject myself to the torture of the nail salons. I would walk out of there with bloody cuticles or some infection growing on my nail. But I would go back. I loved having them.

Then the Door Man was born, and he had to wear contacts. I decided to forego the nails from then on out. I was saddened, but I got over it, and I didn't need to spend that money every two or three weeks just for the sake of fulfilling my obsession.

So when I saw these nails ... these highly-obtainable, on my way home from church nails ... well, I had to have them.

On my way home from picking the Queen up from dance class, I had to stop at Walgreen's to get some Sudacare vaporizer inserts because the girls are doing these great impressions of seals during mating season. And I had to walk past the nails.

And there they were. I did not realize the sheer amount of choices in nails these days.

So I picked out what I wanted, and promptly went home to start applying them.

Who would have known that some super glue and a pack of nails would cause so much interest. The Monkey took a handful of the unused ones and went into the living room to play with them. Queen wouldn't leave my side the entire time because she had already chosen the ones from the remnants that overpowered fit her nails. She was begging me to put them on her, and I kept telling her no.

And I was promptly reminded why I had chosen to go the route of the nail salon and their instruments of torture: super glue and me ... not a perfect match.

I had to pry two nails off of the same exact spot on my left index finger, and now the spot is raw from it. And I also have this one nail on my right hand that is leaning to the left.

But for $ 5.50, what can I expect?

They are bringing a smile to my face, though. This is really the only "girly" indulgence that I partake in. I have my eyebrows waxed when my beautician makes a face and says "can I get those for you?" I get my hair color from a box, and that doesn't occur often. I NEVER get pedicures because my one and only mortal enemy is not a pedicurist, and she is the only person I would subject to doing these feet.

So there is a little glimpse about me ... the nail-obsessed, Clairol Nice and Easy # 114A woman who shouldn't be left in a room with a tube of super glue.

Also, when you get the chance, click on the thumbnail on the left to go visit my new renter, Ghost Works! She has come out of the closet and admitted that she watches Rachael Ray! LOL! I will join her ... I watch Rachael Ray, too because I am waiting for that one time when she CAN'T make a meal in under 30 minutes.

Please share the love, stop over at her place, and check her out! Click on that thumbnail....I dare ya!

5 Comments:

Blogger The "Mind" said...

After two attempts, I have decided that nails are just not for me. I love them for a day, maybe two. But then they start to look not-so-nice. After a week I'm catching hairs in them when I shampoo.

Between having boys and doing all that boys in the family encompasses (camping, fishing, etc) and me being a perfectionist that fake nails just cannot live up to, I've decided I can't be a nail wearer.

But you reminded me. I have a cut and color scheduled for Thursday. Wahoo! Time to wash that gray right outta my hair.

11:49 AM  
Blogger Renee said...

Hi! I'm here from Island Girl's place.
I used to use #114A, but now I splurge and get it done in the salon...but I have to admit that I do touch up my own roots ever other time...shhhh don't tell my stylist!

7:00 PM  
Blogger Knitting Maniac said...

Renee... I won't tell.

I need to have my hair colored by a stylist because I pull red whenever I try to go lighter. I need a professional to work around that little issue.

7:10 PM  
Anonymous Jenn said...

when I got married I had my nails done the 'real' way. I loved them! I was so sad when I had to take them off.

I've never been back to a salon, but I love the glue on ones. They are so fun!

I have an aunt who is a stylist, so I get a good deal on my coloring, and she does it for free!

12:57 PM  
Blogger Knitting Maniac said...

jenn ... I need to send a family member through beauty school. I want my niece to go because I think she would be a total natural at it! Hmmmm... ok ... maybe I will make the suggestion ... which is SOOO Mominator of me and I hate it when she does that to me. Maybe I will keep my mouth shut.

Maybe I will just keep having this convo with myself.

1:59 PM  

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The Lovely She, that is me!

I'm a mom of three peeps ... Queen Bee, The Door Man, and the Chandelier Monkey, and wife to Ace, the Helpful Hardware Man. I created this space to get away from the people known as my inlaws, and because life with three kids and a hubby is all Unexplored Territory.

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The nine-year-old who seems to be growing older every minute, has an opinion and a comment for everything, and has a true servant's heart.
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The seven-year-old who loves the organization of things, will someday be someone's therapist because of his kind soul, and will more than likely be living with us until he is 40 years old.
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The five-year-old with the 13-year-old attitude, who has a dictator's personality, asks you to watch her all the time and say "hold on" to keep your attention, and will someday come home on the back of some dude's motorcycle with 10 tatts and a body piercing or two.

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The man of the house, the fixer of things, the winner of prizes, and the only person in his family to escape the South.

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Wouldn't this be a hoot!
Murphy's Law doesn't even cover it
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