My Fingernails

My fingernails are kinda ugly. They just aren't like pretty fingernails. Pretty fingernails (almost) fit the shape of the fake fingernails you can buy at the dollar store. Pretty fingernails are curved and thin. The grow out and look elegant.

My fingernails, on the other hand (rather, on both hands), are simply none of the above. My fingernails are barely curved. They lazily sit flat and grow flat. Short, square, wide fingernails don't grow out well, they grow out big, and the fake fingernails never fit.

I try to make them pretty (I constantly shove back my cuticles so that the nails look longer). Acutally, I usually just try to keep them from being noticed. That's why I haven't painted my fingernails in years. Painting my nails used to be one of my all time favorite things, but not for a while now. I didn't even bring any nailpolish to school this year.

Frequently, in the evenings, Angela, Marie, and I gather in their room (right next door to mine and Sara's) and spend time together. We talk about boys and pray for comfort and theorize about peace and play with each other's hair. One evening Angela and Marie had this great idea--"Let's paint our nails together."

We all sat down, I sat cross-legged on the floor with polish bottle secured close by and Marie and Angela were in their corresponding ready-to-paint positions (each girl has one, you know, for it is a percarious process--you wouldn't want to spill polish or mess up your nails by slipping and painting "outside the lines"). They smiled as I half-complained, "I don't really like to paint my nails since the polish always chips so quickly." And on we painted.

Heasitantly, I began to slowly but ever so steadily paint the deep red color onto my naturally naked fingernails.

Avoid the cuticle if possible. Not possible.
Oh, bummer! "Where's the remover. I got it on my finger."
Silence. Don't get too much paint on the brush. Ah, It's dripping!
"How's your day, Marie?"
Time for the right hand. Now you'll have to be extra careful painting with your clumsy left hand, Becs.
Why is the opening for the bottle so small?
Finished. Wave your hands around.
"What about you, Ang?"
Keep waving. They'll dry faster.
Just don't hit anything. Don't touch that yet.
"I'm fine. Doing really well, actually..."

For the first few days before the polish began to chip off I noticed my fingers. I really noticed them. And I didn't mind noticing. As I washed my hands, picked up a pencil, lifted a glass to my lips, twisted a door handle, put on my mascara... my hands looked elegant. Wherever they moved, whatever they did, my painted fingernails were pretty.