Chipped Nails and All

In an effort to spice things up in my life, I’ve decided to paint my nails. Far less drastic than a tattoo or new hair color, but still it is something. I used to shy away from nail color because it would chip and I never felt like I got that blush paint off my fingers.

Now I wear that deep wine color, shades of gray, and this week Little Brown Dress. I once chose a gray based on its name, Smoking Hot. With the polish nearly dry, I received a compliment from a 24 year old.

It took me a little bit of time to adjust to the polish on my normally bland nails but now I am not as distracted by the color specks in my peripheral vision. Today four fingers are completely painted, three are mildly chipped and the remained are in worse shape. Even if I attempt to remove the polish myself I always feel like I leave a trace of color on the edges. So at this stage with polish approaching a week old, I must decide if the color should stay or go. Five less than perfect nails should be my tipping point.

And so I bid adieu from the dustbowl of my apartment to the bathroom to remove my little brown dress of color.


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