Manicures are few and far between for me. In fact, I can count the number of professional manicures I have gotten over my lifetime on one hand. I am not a fan because I am impatient, I have active hands, and I am too practical. Oh and I have ugly hands, so why bother? I wrote about that here.
A few months back, my friend and I went to get manis and pedis. Squeal! Yeah, no.
I like getting pedicures. The scrubbing, scraping, and the sloughing off skin. The soaking. The shiny polish. But I still find the process a little awkward. I mean, my dirty feet are in someone’s face. My callouses from running and brittle pinkie toe nails are all exposed.
We got gel manicures. The manicurist didn’t trim my finger nails, or push back the cuticles, or even put special lotion on them. I asked and she said they don’t do that there. What?! She proceeded to paint my nails “as is.” My cuticles were covering the “moons” and the hangnail was still hanging. I wrote about a similar experience, You Can Paint A Turd, But It’s Still A Turd, here.
It was basically two coats of paint and a special top coat, “curing” the nails under UV light. Um, doesn’t that cause cancer?
Miffed, I begrudgingly got my credit card out of my wallet trying not to chip anything. After the polish was fully cured, I noticed an air bubble that stared its evil eye at me, increasingly pissing me off with each passing day. I started picking at the polish four days later.
You can have your Princess Pink. I’ll keep my scraggly nails and $45.