When my last quest for the elusive replacement tube ended in failure, I turned my attention to nail polish. I don't wear nail polish. I just don't have the level of commitment it takes to maintain polished nails. But I love the idea of nail polish. I used to wear it all the time, in flashy colors like Dragonfire and Mudslide and - I swear I'm not making this up - Just Spotted the Lizard. Standing in front of a bank of little shiny bottles, I was overcome with nostalgia, and began thinking it would be nice to have painted nails again. Since Husband isn't really a fan of flashy colors, I thought I would go for something nice and muted and feminine. I found a "sheer" color called Arm Candy (and seriously, don't you think that getting to name nail polish would just be the coolest job ever?) that I thought would give a nice healthy pinkish glow to my nails. I ran home and slapped on a couple of coats.
It's a bit ghastly. When the light hits it just right, it makes my nails a sort of milky white that's just unnatural enough to freak me out a little. It kind of makes me think my nails are coming loose, like they aren't really attached to my hands. I'm giving myself a week to get used to it. Thankfully I don't look at my hands all that much. My mom was right when she told me back in high school I'd be glad some day I took touch typing.