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Adventures in nail depression

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Aloha friends! This post is an in-depth look and explanation for where I have been these last few months.

After the drama that was slicing my finger open, I thought I’d be able to show you archive photos that I never bothered to post, for a plethora of reasons. But the more I looked at how nice my nails were and how pretty all those polishes looked, I started to get kind of down on my hands. And then, one night while editing said photos, Mr. J said “Wow, look how nice your cuticles were!” I know he meant it as a compliment and I know he didn’t mean to upset me. But that was the tipping point. I realized how much I’d neglected nail care since that fateful April day and now my cuticles (and nails) looked like garbage.

The more I looked at my poor, peeling, naked nails, the more I started to resent all of my polish. It was mocking me. So I moped for about three days before I decided to use my healing time as a chance to whip my nails back in shape. And it worked. For about two weeks. Then that resentment started to rear its ugly head again. All that polish and the inability to wear it. Or…was it? I thought “WHO CARES IF I CAN’T PAINT ONE NAIL! IT WILL BE THE NEW LOOK! WOUNDED ACCENT NAIL!” Depressed me thinks in capitals to try and get myself excited about things. Sometimes it works and sometimes it crashes and burns. This was an occasion where it worked.

Side note: It honestly NEVER occurred to me to use my Cinderella hand in place of my model hand until about two months after the event. By this point, I was deep in my pit of despair.

Back to the story… so I busted out some polish and painted my nails with excitement oozing from my pores. Two nails in, I realized that it was not even close to being the same. Then I thought “Well, I’ll just move that finger out of the hand pose and then I can still blog!”

No. That was even worse than the mutilated finger itself. I looked like a Ninja Turtle. And not in the good way. But I held out hope that I would get used to it and before long, my nail would be grown out.

Wrong again. Eventually I just gave up entirely and went naked for three months. Yes. THREE MONTHS WITHOUT NAIL POLISH. The more days that passed without it, the sadder I got and before long, I wouldn’t even read my favourite polish blogs. Everything just hurt too much. And then that monumental day in August should have been the turning point. But, once again, I had let my nail care fall away and my cuticles and nails were disgusting again. So, I just gave up. But VERY slowly, I began to crawl out of my deep, deep hole. I started looking at nail polish again. I started slathering my hands in Vaseline and cuticle oil (they’re still a bit rough looking but that’s work’s fault). I began reading my favourite blogs again. I bought a few new bottles of polish. And then…one day…I worked up the nerve and painted them. And it has been a VERY slow, uphill battle since then. Of course there were and are other factors that come into play. I’m really working towards opening my own bakery. I also took myself off of some medication that basically made me a zombie. But mostly, I just need to be excited about nail polish again. And fall is a good time for that. Anywho, if you’ve made it this far, thank you. I love you all so much and I can’t wait to start blogging again. Here is a little collage of my failed attempts at “Mutilated Accent Nail” manis.

cc

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About triztron

I don't really live in a place called Brockvegas. It's called Brockville.

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