Girlie Musings: manicure

I am upset. I am sad. And I am indignant. At my perfectly painted nails being screwed royally.

It had been quite some time since I wanted to paint my nails a dark chocolate color. The nail polish bottle was calling out to me. But I had been too caught up with a beautiful coral red and a perfect shade of magenta pink to pay heed to its calls.

But I couldn’t ignore the summons of my nail polish bottle anymore. (The red color on my nails was beginning to peel away- Plight of a housewife). So anyways, I take out my nail polish remover bottle, clean my nails and give myself a nice little pampering manicure that was long overdue.

My nails start to glow and I feel proud of them again. So I bring out my choco baby, and tell her she can finally sit pretty on my nails. Two careful coats with a base coat do the job for me. Perfectly manicured and painted nails- the fruit of my hard work. And they start to look like they were borrowed from Filmfare or Femina (or Cosmo if I may dare say). And I am a happy pampered woman again.

But no… the Gods above have something else in store for me. The power goes out and I am bathed in darkness. It’s scary to say the least since I am home alone (the hubby’s out of town). Considering I was watching a scary movie during my manicure, which centered around a family moving into a new house and strange things start happening when they watch a particular soap on TV every afternoon; I kind of feel the hairs on my back standing up. I was watching television too! And we have moved in only recently…

Nonetheless, I gather up my wits, telling myself that is just a figment of somebody else’s imagination, so I shouldn’t let it scare me. After all, the hubby calls me Bengal Tigress!! I fumble for the matchbox in the dim, unhelpful light of the mobile screen, and fish out a candle. I bargained for one, but I get two. Too good, I say.

But it was said too much too soon. As I carry the candles to the balcony to check if the entire neighborhood is soaking in the same darkness, I see a shadowy reflection on a picture on one of the walls of my room. Two flickers of light and an indistinct figure. It takes me a while to realize it’s me, as the old fear gets ready to creep back into my mind. I push it away into the dark corners, instilling some sense and logic instead.

While I am busy fighting my inner darkness and the demons that live there, one of the candles has burned enough and hot, molten wax drips onto my fingers. Jolted out of my reverie, as I try to save myself from the sudden attack of the liquefied villain, it drips further down onto my perfectly painted nails!!

Oh the pain! Nope not physical hurt. The pains of seeing your hardwork go waste, or shall I say waxed.