A blond moment

For as long as I can remember, I've always had problems with my nails. I don't bite them, but I pick at them to a point where they are stubby and painful. It happens when I'm stressed. Or bored. Or when there's an annoying hang-nail that would eventually become a bleeding mess.

It's a horrible (and UGLY) habit.
And LY would whack my hands whenever she sees me fiddling with my fingers.

Whenever girlfriends suggest "Hey, lets go for a group mani & pedi!", I look at my fingers and hear them laugh (my nails, not my friends).

Strangely, I forgot about my nails for the past 2 months or so. I was too busy to think about them, but at the same time, not stressed out enough to start picking at them absent-mindedly.

Before Christmas came along, I actually had long, decent, manicure-able nails! So I went one Saturday for the full works. A french mani and a basic pedi at the Kuku Bar, Bangsar.

This was the outcome. Pretty, but I realised being a girly girl wasn't exactly my cup of teh tarik. So, it all began with the pedicure. Exfoliation and scrubbing and then the toe-nail painting. Ladida. Dug into the glossy gossip magazines (oooh, Josh Hartnett's hot, and geez, why nothing on Hugh Laurie one!!). Fidget. Fidget. Fidget. Tick tock tick tock.

My patience slightly tested, I moved to the manicure table while my freshly painted toes were still drying. The lady pushed back my cuticles. Snip-snip. Rub-rub. Painted on a protective layer on my nails with something that looked like a marker. A layer of sheer pink. A white strip at the tips. Another layer of sheer pink. Then finishing with a glossy top coat.

Pretty. But it took way TOOOOO long. I was mentally convulsing after the first ten minutes. My eyes were roaming about the room. I stared at all the bottles of nail polish displayed on the shelves and the posters and the floor and the excruciatingly slow movements of the manicurist's hands.

Why do women put themselves through this?
They actually enjoy the process?

Of course, it didn't end there. I had to wait for my nails to dry (another 20 minutes), and when I left I was given a warning to treat my nails gingerly for the next couple of hours. Gosh, I was so paranoid about screwing up my nails after paying RM38 (and RM35 for the pedi), I felt like an invalid. My hands were paralysed with fear.

I got home with the nails still glossy and intact, feeling mighty pleased with myself. Until I dug into my cupboard to get a comfy t-shirt out and chipped off the polish on my third finger. EFF! It looked mighty obvious and ugly.

Then I remembered some nail art stickers I got as part of a Secret Santa gift last year (that person must hardly know me). I pasted it on the chipped bit. Ok. Not too bad. Weird (cos I put it on only one nail), but at least it stopped screaming "you're an idiot for chipping me" in my face.

What? Put ALL the stickers on all my nails? I so ah-lian meh!

Anyway, the polish started peeling off after 3 days.
Partly, I would say because the people at Kuku Bar didn't do a very good job. I think the girl cleaning up my nails and cuticles was a trainee. She didn't look like she knew what she was doing. So I got a shoddy prep job.

Another reason for the premature peeling - my itchy fingers. It's as if my body's subconsciously rejecting it like it would a donor organ. Manicures are nice. I wish my fingers could look this presentable half the time. But this is the unfortunate truth.

I am SO not made for the girly life.