November 20, 2020

I saw an old photograph of myself yesterday with bright red nails, and for the first time in a long time, I missed manicures. Once in a while, and only for a day two before the polish chipped, it felt lovely to walk around with beautifully buffed, crimson talons. I think I miss the eavesdropping as much as the manicure. It was always so fun to listen to people chatting on their phones, or bitching to their aesthetician. “I should have dumped him then and there….” And it was the only time I ever got to catch up on who has cellulite and who wore it better. Everyone. And neither. It was a diversion in my day. A moment to step off the carousel and into Kelly Clarkson’s kitchen. And then dash home with the prettiest hands to make dinner.


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