Since wedding season has started and I am shooting more frequently, I have to keep my nails short so I can readily switch my camera's controls. This last month, however, my nails grew almost double what they normally grow. I always get the pink and white set for my nails so that it looks like I have a french manicure. When I went to the spa yesterday and told my manicurist how much I needed cut off, she said, "I will give you a full new set because the white tips will be gone if I cut them any shorter." Well, I was due for a new set anyway so I agreed.
Instantly, my manicurist starts digging through her drawer, pulling out a SHARP tool. "Oh boy . . . here we go," I thought. As she clicks and peels, clicks and peels, she could tell I was getting a little squeamish. Suddenly, she stops and says, "I'm afraid I'm going to hurt you. Maybe you should soak your nails first." Thinking that a nice little bubble bath for my nails was in order, I smiled and exclaimed, "Ok!"
Sitting in such delight, I watch my manicurist make her way to the sink. Strangely, she stops short of the faucet and pulls out a big bottle of ACETONE from the cabinet. "What? What is going on?!" I think. I phonically sound out 'acetone' in my head. "Ass-eh-tone, ACID-tone . . . I'm gonna DIE!" I silently freak out.
Before I could mumble a word, my hands were being drowned into a cold bowl of chemicals! My fingers became numb and I began to lose skin sensitivity. I was filling my body with chemicals . . . WITH CANCER! I had to take a deep breath. I had to think clearly and positive! "I cannot get cancer from removing my acrylic nails" I thought. In my mind, however, I had to repeat this several times. "Surely there would have been a swat team invasion on nail salons if this were illegal or dangerous to one's health," I reasoned. I was suddenly feeling more calm about the situation.
As I looked down into the cold bowl of chemicals, I could see my last remnant of bridal beauty dissolving away. My heart began to break. "Show's over, folks," I thought. It's just me now. No tan, no acrylic nails, no updo . . . I was me in my purest form. As I lifted my hands out from the bowl, I could see my real nails peering through the acrylic. It was like seeing an old friend. And then, suddenly, a feeling of exhilaration and freedom washed over me. For the first time, I was seeing my wedding band on a hand that was completely mine . . . the one God made me. I felt different. I felt REALLY married. I felt excited and happy!
As my manicurist sat down again to place on a new set of acrylic nails, I blurted out, "No, I think I like my hands the way they are." GASP! Did I really just say that? I could hear the earth cracking. "I like myself the way I am??" I thought. Looking at my nails again, I said, "Look at 'em. They are kinda cute." She smiled and agreed.
As I left the salon, I couldn't stop looking at my hands. You would think that I had just gotten engaged or something. When my husband Nathan arrived home from work that night, I jumped out of my seat to show him my nails. I told him all about the spa drama and that he wouldn't have to pay for my monthly manicure anymore. He smiled and exclaimed, "Good!" Don't tell him I said this but his delicate flower plans on getting a monthly massage instead :)
Ladies and gentleman, I unveil to you my real hand:
(cricket . . . cricket, cricket . . . )
I know . . . it's quite moving.
1 comment:
precious :)
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