I have given my nail polish a lot of thought as of late. Not just in the Mary Foley , are you a bodacious woman sort of way but in the nail polish as a physical representation of myself as a woman sort of way. I don’t think it clicked in my head how different those concepts can be.
Two years ago, I heard Mary Foley speak for the first time while on a trip to Washington DC. She was incredible. She is a Phi Mu sister from the 1980’s, retired AOL executive, and now a women’s motivational speaker. She charged all of us at the luncheon with learning to live like our nail polish in the time that was come.
Today, I am painting my nails with Sunrise, Sunset (number 81 in the Sally Hansen Diamond Strength line). I find myself addressing the question: how do I live like sunrise, sunset? Does it involve my being awake for both? If orange was a personality trait, how would I live like it? Why did I not opt to buy the Tangerine Joy polish? And why is it so much easier to live like Champagne Toast than it is to live like Fire Opal? While these are not pressing questions in the mind of most, they can be a bit problematic when all I am trying to do is live like my nail polish and the bold names they possess.
There is also the slight detail that my line of work severely limits my ability to wear nail polish and for a nail polish fiend like myself, this is rather upsetting. Apparently, the FDA and state food agencies frown on nail polish in a food preparation environment. While I don’t exactly blame them, I am not thrilled about it either. Sometimes I try to trick myself that my nail polish is really “Nude” or “Bare” or “Pure” but Starbucks tends to frown upon nudity and I would burn myself out far too quickly if I bared my soul in there too often. And even when I try to tell myself that I am living purely, the truth is that I am not and that by my mother’s standards, I am a heathen headed straight for eternity in a fiery pit.
In college, I prided myself on having perfectly manicured nails, even before the bodacious awakening, as I like to think of it. To me, my nails were a statement of luxury. They were long, natural, and perfectly coated in color. I loved the look of surprise on women’s faces when they realized my nails were not acrylic and I loved the look of relaxation on my guy friends when I would softly drag my nails across their backs. It was a symbol of power. Few of my friends realized the amount of work that went into maintaining them as I had a tendency to also prove that I was just as strong as everyone else and my hands tended to be a visible statement of that. I liked to make sure that my finger nails, at the very least, were saying “I am better than you”.
Sunrise, sunset. I didn’t see the sunrise today. I will probably see the sunset but there are no promises for that. Does sunrise to sunset imply that I should be nonstop through the lit hours of the day? Or does my bottle of nail polish want me to learn how to appreciate the beauty that we are blessed with everyday? My nail polish draws attention to the fiery parts of the day, the parts that are vibrant with color and illusion as the light dances through the sky – did my living today reflect that? Am I still vibrant with color? Am I illuminated by light?
Originally posted to Diaryland as Im32flavors on May 30, 2006.
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