The most profound post ever written
I've been painting my nails a lot lately. Last month I got a manicure and I've been obsessively lacquering ever since. I bought some really cheap polish - the kind that 12-year old girls buy at the drugstore with their bubblegum money. The colors are bright and garish enough to call attention - something I don't normally relish.
The bright, aqua blue elicited enthusiasm from the check-out girl at the Emigration Market. The shimmering purple caused an elderly woman in a wheelchair to grab my left hand and hold it for about 3 minutes while telling me all about her daughter who now lives in New Jersey.
Painted nails make me want to point things out to people. Both literal things and figurative. "Have you ever noticed this sign before? Aren't the colors lovely? Isn't the font nice?"
I'll point with my short, purple-painted nail on my stubby, outstretched finger and we'll all look up together.
1 comment:
Is this similar to a guy who's been working out flexing his muscle when he points at something? Is it that same sort of impulse, do you suppose?
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