Who are YOU? What do YOU believe? I believe that all of the thoughts and ideas that we’ve bought from people, society, religion, parents, books, entertainment, school, friends, jobs, etc., are owed a line of questioning.
I mean really, where do you end and someone else begins? Where do you draw the line and say, "does this belong to me?" We enter this life as a clean canvas and the world around us paints us with their opinions so that we can join society and become a contributing member. But what about you, just on your own?
There is danger in blindly taking something at face value and adopting it. And when, in your heart of hearts, you wish to deviate from what has been told to you is the 'norm,' you're suddenly a deviant, and often times a self-proclaimed one.
This post is actually about nail polish. Yup, it’s about that little bottle of lacquer that every female covets. All the wonderful ladies in my life who have raised me and loved me, befriended me and taught me how to be a proper lady, have also told me that nail polish is part of the package.
I've had a relationship with nail polish since I was 12. Countless bottles, colors, designs, and glitters alike have been a part of my repertoire before I even had a chance to decide if it was really for me. It was cool, everyone else was doing it, and I wanted to be cool.
Besides being corrosive and cumbersome to keep up with, it's also an extremely demanding, addicting, and not to mention an expensive and time consuming habit that becomes as much of a necessary to a woman as her own skin. Oh how I love a freshly polished coat of Marlboro red, the illustrious French tip or the occasional, funky, glittered ring-finger that shows my playful side.
I gave it all up though, fingers, toes, they are baby bare and you know what, just as lovely. I used to visit the nail salon once a week religiously, I mean on-a-first-name-basis with every manicurist in site type of religiously. I used to plan my Fridays around my appointment, always making sure I had enough cash for the tip and flip-flops for the aftermath. Picking a color was so much fun, so euphoric even. Walking out of the salon, feeling like a polished queen was unequivocally satisfying.
So why did I give it up? I don’t want to be tied to something that needs so much of my time and attention and money. As it turns out, I like, nay, love my nails just they way they are, and feel an ineffable amount of liberation as a result of this decision. Unpolished fingers and toes? Yes please!
When was the last time you were unpolished?