Insecurites

Growing up, I always wondered why my hands looked different from my mom's and grandma's; especially their nails. Theirs looked long ang narrow and looked so good when painted. In fact, I have very vivid memories of watching them get manicures and pedicures.

And while I was told that my hands and fingers were feminine, I think I always hated the way my nails looked. The shape is weird. The length is short. And it never seemed to look good when painted. 

I had a very bad nail biting habit when I was younger. Perhaps that's why my nails now look so bad. Despite that, I had a brief nail polish phase when I was in college. It went as far as me using nail polish with glitters and little butterflies in it; making it seem like nail art. 

And I loved them. I felt happy showing them to others because I did that.

More than 10 years later, I find myself on a low. I had a really bad soft gel extension experience. 

The nail tech did not stick the extensions well. He put too much glue, making it tick and ugly, and it looks like the nail is rising. He did not put the nail polish properly and now it looks uneven and weird with all the leftover air bubbles. He did 

And the worst of it all, the one coaching him just had to keep telling me that my nails were stubby, short, etc. They didn't know anything about how insecure I am about my hands, which is why I did not call them out for it. I mean, how were they supposed to know?

But what really got me was how sloppy they did their job which lead to how much uglier my nails looked. And any business that doesn't admit that they did a lazy job immediately goes to my "never gonna go back there" list.

In the coming days after that appointment, I felt my anxiety plummet. It was the same feeling I had a year ago where I burned my hand and suffered from a really bad burn. That incident, and what it left behind, left me so mortified. I was feeling so heavy in the chest and head. I felt like it wouldn't be able to recover from such an incident.

Thankfully, the burn mark is gone, not even scarred. What's left of it is the memory of how it looked and felt. I'd like to think that it will be like that with my nails. They will get better. They will look okay again. 

And even if I find my nails to be unsightly, I still think that they are incredibly important. I cook, clean, write, draw, and craft with them. I do so much with their help. And those help me love them.