Women with long nails are probably not good at anything

Nails are funny things. I'm talking of course about the ones on the ends of our fingers, and not the ones you might find yourself needing a hammer for. They come in handy for scratching, but really, I can't think of one good reason why a person would need their nails to be anything more than simple, short tools, with perhaps the occasional fun shade of polish to jazz your hands up.

That said, in the past few months I've begun keeping my nails long and manicured. It all started innocently enough. I took my younger sister Sarah to get mani-pedis for a graduation/birthday present, and decided I might as well get the spa treatment too. Sarah's manicurist was a jovial woman named Young, who quickly won our hearts with her abrupt personal questions (i.e. This new boy you are seeing, is it serious? Are you sleeping with him?), and afterwords, I knew I'd be back. I mean, has your manicurist ever given you a hug at the end of your appointment? How could I not become a repeat customer?

Thus started my journey into the life of a female with long nails. By salon standards my nails are still on the short side, perhaps measuring a centimeter or so from the top of my finger outward, but I realized after a few weeks of this that a fundamental change was occuring deep inside me. First it was the little things; avoiding chores that might muss up my polish (although to be honest, is it really all that difficult to avoid doing the dishes or scrubbing the bathtub?), and certain pastimes became tricky, such as playing my guitar, as holding down chords with long nails is just a nuisance.

It was when they started interfering with my day-to-day routine that I began to realize having long nails was stupid. Sure, one can manage to type out a few words on a keyboard with clicking clacking nails, but try writing an essay, or a long email to someone of importance at your job, and then tell me how practical having long protrusions on the ends of your fingers really is.

Simple tasks became annoying, and then there was the truly dreaded "I broke a nail" scenerio, which isn't really about the negative aesthetics of a jagged nail, so much as the excrutiating pain of your skin being tugged off underneath the nail bed, bringing about days, nay weeks of discomfort.

So I come to the point of this introspective, which is that if I ever want to be taken seriously in this world, if I ever want to accomplish anything of value, I cannot wear my nails long. I can't think of a single person making a marked difference in this world, who also has unnaturally long nails. I mean, do you think that our cavewoman ansestors worried about this sort of thing? "Oh no, the sabertooth tiger is about to eat my babies, and I haven't had my nails done yet!"

Nail polish, whch is also pointless, I could still defend because it's pretty, and doesn't get in anyone's way. But these women, with nails so long they hold a pencil like someone who recently had a stroke and has lost motor function in their hands, cannot aspire to be anything more than a caricature of the stereotypical useless female.

In conclusion, keep your nails short, but your wit sharp.

Boldly going where many have gone before...

On this overcast Friday in June, with a sick cat to babysit, and a house to clean, I thought there might not be a more perfect day to begin a blog. Or, I should say, weblog. I think that sounds a bit fancier.

Cat Status Update: Darla has gone from catatonic (no pun intended) to slightly mobile, having managed to make it on our bed. She doesn't look well.

I'm being summoned to cleaning duty. More tidbits to come.