"Your Nails are Painted? Who are You?"

I have never considered myself a girly-girl. Well, that may be less than accurate; as a little girl my room looked like the inside of a powder puff; pink walls and lacy ruffles to boot. Plus I wore dresses to school all the time.
But as I've grown older, I have never been one of those girls who always has immaculately done hair. I took Cosmetology in grade 10 and learned all the tricks, but despite this, I still remained a ponytail girl half the time. I have just never had the patience.

It should come as no surprise that my nails have never been that noteworthy. Again in Cosmo, I learned how to do really nice manicures and I have all the tools, but I never saw the point; they chip fast, they're distracting, my fingers weren't something I liked to draw attention to anyways. I didn't even like waering rings. When I started my job it seemed even more pointless. I type most of the day, what would be the point in doing my nails if they're going to get chipped everyday?

In May, my cousin Mik moved in. She is as much of a nail/hair person as me, except her mother never managed to convince her to take Cosmo. When she moved to Edmonton she started working at a jewellery manufacturer, which has started her on a few curious out-of-character habits:

1. She has a habit of taking people's rings off their fingers and scrutinizing them before lecturing on proper ring care. My dad bought me a gorgeous green saphire in Thailand a few years back which according to Mik I have done nothing but abuse since. When I told her I didn't take it off to wash my hair she actually cringed. My ring now sits safely on the counter every time I use shampoo.

2. Mik does her nails all the time.

I guess when you are holding rings under a magnifying glass to show people the glamour of a diamond, you want your nails to look equally fabulous, so Mik has taken to sitting down in the living room at least once a week to retouch her French tips, and becuase I live in the same house as her and hang out with her all the time, I took to joining her.

I got into it slowly; dipping my toes in so to speak by actually painting them. Then I ventured to my fingers. This past week, I went bold, and painted my fingers red. Midweek there was a few chips, so I repainted. The next day at work, I stopped by my friend Maddy's desk to borrow a hi-liter. As I reached to grab the marker, she stopped and exclaimed:

"Your nails are painted? What have you done? Who are you?"

Upon explanation, she just laughed.

I didn't realize how far I had come until I felt the need to do another touch up last night. I scanned my memory through all the times Mik have hung out at home: watch BBC miniseries and paint our nails, discuss writing and paint our nails, paint nails while lemon squares are baking, make my grocery list and paint my nails....

Have I become this person? I nicked my thumb nail while I was out today and corrected it as soon as I came home. Overwhelmingly, yes, I am that person.

Who would have thought.