The blue color flows along my nails, creating a shiny coat. I carefully spread the paint with the nimble brush, hoping a big glob won't drop from it and create a spot. My left hand shakes as I paint my right hand. Why couldn't I have been born ambidextrous? For nothing else, wouldn't it be nice to be able to paint my nails with both hands?
I paint one nail at a time, slowly, carefully as though I'm being tested. They have to be perfect. I can't deal with an imperfect coat of nail polish. I hear the music blaring from the laptop in my room. Exactly which song was it? My attention falters for a slight second and I smear polish on the tip of my finger.
'Great, just great.' I think as I stare at the blue spot on my finger. I reach for a tissue and try to wipe it away. To my dismay, the polish simply smears, giving my finger more of a blueish color. That stupid little spot has grown. I sigh and move on. I guess my finger will look a little blue for the next week or so.
My nails are finally done and I wait for them to dry. Curling up with a good book I try hard not to smear the polish on the perfectly white pages. Occasionally I check to see if the polish has dried yet. I get so wrapped up in the book that I almost forget about my nails. Thank goodness they're finally dry. I stand up, put the book away and walk back to my desk. Just as I'm about to sit down and continue to write my novel, I look at my feet. I sigh and find my nail polish again.
My toe nails are purple and sparkly. That definitely does not match the sky blue that's now displayed on my fingers. Looks like I'm going to have to make my toes match.
And that's why I hate painting my nails.
