I have often described my hands as man hands. Which, in light of mentioning on my Mother's Day post that I had inherited Mom's hands from her, insinuates that she had man hands as well.
I intend not to insult my mom or not be very, very thankful that I have two perfectly good hands attached where they are supposed to be attached - at my wrists.
I knew one thing early on - my life's calling was never going to be a hand model. While functional, my hands are not the prettiest. My hands aren't large, nor are they small and petite. I guess there aint nothin' small and petite about me. My fingers are kind of thick and the middle one on each hand curves outward in a strange way. My cuticles, without a daily treatment of my special homemade concoction of olive oil, baby oil and which ever essential oil I am in the mood for, would be a consistant dry and cracked mess riddled with hangnails.
I used to bite my fingernails when I was a kid. Mom tried everything to get me to stop. Potions and threats did nothing. The credit for the cure goes to Debbie. I don't know how old we were - certainly still in grade school. Deb and I were standing in the checkout line at Johnny's grocery store - those of you from Kent may remember that it was on the corner of Kent Kangley and Benson Rd. I was chewing on my fingernails and Deb looked at me and said, "You know, if they ever cut open your stomach, I bet they will find a big ball of fingernails in there." Cured me right then and there.
A couple of Saturday's ago, Randy, Roxy and I were out and about running errands and hitting some weekend Mountain Home festivities. Now, I need to back up for a minute and explain that my beautiful sister, Teri, had asked me to check out nail salons for her in case she needs to update her manicure when she and Jack are here in June. I have kept my hands and eyes peeled for salons, something that I have never given much of a thought to.
I can't say that I have never had acrylic nails. Many years ago, I was a guinea pig for an acquaintance who was going to class to become a hair stylist. She wanted to open a shop in her home and felt that she needed to learn how to do acrylic nails as well.
I thank my lucky stars that I wasn't asked to be the head that she practiced haircuts on because most of the nails fell or broke off within my thirty minute drive home.
I have never given it a thought, having my self-proclaimed 'man hands', that Randy's money would be well spent on acrylic nails. It would almost be like putting lipstick on a pig.
on this particular Saturday, I was feeling quite spunky. As Randy drove through town on our way to the fairgrounds, I noticed a salon called 'City Nails' in a strip mall off the main highway. I told Randy that we were going to stop there on our way home and I was going to dash in to check the place out, get pricing and talk to the owner about the process.
It was early afternoon when we stopped by City Nails. I walked in the salon and took a look around. It was very busy, decorated nicely and was clean and tidy. I believe, at least in cases like this, first impressions, as well as internal instinct count. My intuition said to me, "Dorothy, this place is okay."
Tim, the owner, was working at a station in the front of the salon. He and his customer were gracious enough to talk to me about the process and about my concerns (please refer to the lipstick on a pig portion of this blog). Tim said that it would take about twenty minutes to put the nails on if I wanted to wait. I explained that I had my husband and dog waiting for me in the parking lot and that would I drop them off at home and come back. I went back out to the truck and Roxy and Randy decided to go to Harps to look at fishing gear and buy me some bananas while they waited for me.
Yes, our local grocery store has a fairly large sporting goods section. And no, you are not able to buy beer at the same place that you buy your ammunition. Liquor here is sold in package stores, unless you are shopping at WalMart. You can buy beer, wine and bullets at WalMart. And cigarettes, too.
The acrylic nail process didn't transform my cuticles and man hands into works of art. I did end up with very pretty nails attached to my perfectly good and useful hands. Of course, the color that I picked out was orange - the prettiest color in the universe.
Have the BEST day ever!