I’m renowned for having shit nails. They are constantly chipped and short and shit and it drives me mad. I’m not even that bad at painting them but I always find that after a couple of hours they’ve chipped (regardless of the brand that I use) and really who can be bothered to remove and repaint varnish every day? When there’s a puppy who needs cuddling and tequila that needs to be drunk? Yeh that’s what I thought. No one has the time for that. So for the last ten years, I’ve had crap nails. They’re chipped to shit or they’re not painted, that’s just how I roll. Well, it’s how I rolled.
Since I started vlogging though, I have started noticing my hands more. I am an incredibly expressive person when I talk and use my hands, eyebrows and nostrils more than I use my voice. Because I am crap and lazy I wasn’t arsed to paint my nails before I filmed and I noticed in the edit, how scruffy I looked with nasty nails. So a couple of weeks ago, when I had to go and give a presentation I realised that the first thing that I needed to address was my nails. I didn’t really have the money for a manicure, I never really have the money for a manicure, but I saw it as a necessity. If I had a way of doing it, I probably would have put it on expenses. (Sort of joking).
I went and got my nails done and they looked great for two weeks and when those two weeks were up I went and got them done again. No reason this time, other than the fact that I love having pretty hands.
So is that excessive? Is it a ridiculous luxury and a waste of money? Or is it something that I deserve? That my hands deserve, because they do so much for me? They type like mad men, the dress me every day, they wash my hair and wipe my bum, they peel vegetables and pick up dog poo. Is a little TLC too much to ask for them? No! Surely not.
I can identify people that have their shit together by their nails normally. My friend Sophie for example. I’ve never seen her with a spot or when she is having a bad hair day, I don’t think she oversleeps, she is always well dressed and, you guessed it, she has always got the most perfect nails. My old flatmate was the same, never a chip insight. So was my grannie, who was obsessed by her nails to the point where she wouldn’t do the washing up without her Marigolds on. These women, these women with their shit together and the perfect nails always seem to smell like Jo Malone, and I’ve always wanted to be the type of woman that smells like Jo Malone.
I don’t have my shit together, of course I don’t. I snack on all the wrong foods, regularly have stains on my clothes, have terrible hair and spots galore and most the time that is fairly depressing. But all of that is made a shit tonne easier when I look down and see the hands of a grownup, mature, together woman at the end of my arms. It helps to get me through the day. It’s a little thing, in the grand scheme of things, I grant you that, but it’s my little thing.
So once every couple of weeks I will be found at the nail bar. I still have hairy legs and out of control eyebrows and no doubt I will be shamed and judged by the beauticians who are painting my nails for my poor hair-care maintenance, but I don’t care. That’s a problem for another day. Out on the street, to the untrained eye, I want them all seeing a Jo-Malone-smelling-shit-together kind of woman, hell, I want to feel like that woman! So that’s why I get my nails done, and that’s why I’ll defend my decision time and time again. Who’s with me?