I’m having a nail crisis! It actually started years ago, when I realized I couldn’t grow nails like the other women in my family or my girlfriends. I have baby nails. Really! They’re tiny. And my hands are small, too. So, I knew I would never be a concert pianist, but to realize I couldn’t grow nails that would look lovely with luscious pinks, corals, and all kinds of decorative paintings, has left me devastated. Don’t even get me started on all the Jamberry stickers I could be buying and wearing like nobody’s business!
Now, I know how it is. I could very easily put fake nails on and call it a day. But, that costs money, bi-weekly, to maintain. It’s money I don’t have to spend on such luxuries. Plus, there is one confounding factor to all of this. Let’s say I had the money to go fake and awesome. How the heck would I write?
I’ve been sprinting lately, which really ups my word count, thankfully. If I had claws, I’d be sprinting and writing gibberish and probably half the amount of words. So, it would seem it’s either my stories or my nails. I can’t have both. I choose my stories. They don’t fade, they don’t break, they don’t cost me money beyond the start-up.
So, my dear friends with GORGEOUS nails, don’t mind the drool as I fawn all over yours. One day, when I have the money and the time to learn how to type with nails, I’ll get my own set. Until then, paint well, my friends!