Nailed?

My hands are hurting from being repeatedly sat upon in vain efforts to conceal them from curious onlookers.  I make an effort to appear clean and scrubbed, if not reasonably glamourous but venture beyond my wrists - and weep!  As I type, I glimpse my hands out of the corner of my eye. Scratches from battling the rose bush in the front garden, a plaster on the finger where the cat dug in with her claws when I rescued my knitting from her playful grasp, dry skin from washing dishes, a scar on my thumb from the screwdriver which slipped and as for my fingernails, I wash my hands of them!

I feel like Scarlett in that scene where Rhett grabs her hand and grins wickedly, frankly not fooled-a-damn, my deah, by her attempt to present herself as a Lady of Leisure.  Try, for example, to get through a whole job interview with your butt firmly placed on the offending instruments of God's work.  It's bad enough struggling to resist the impulse to scratch those impertinent itches which niggle in all sorts of awkward places but there is no way a contract can be signed with one's teeth or toes without attracting unfavourable attention. Unless the job opening is for an armless artist.

Fortunately for me, an almost illegible signature hastily scribbled before my hand returns to its sanctuary has not lost me a contract yet.  Neither have my wounded paws (never mind my wounded and scabby knees!) unduly offended any of my students as I point at the blackboard and gesticulate wildly in my attempts to illustrate various aspects of the English language.  This is most likely due to the fact that they are so dizzy from the speed with which I point and gesticulate, that they don't have time to notice anything unusual.

Unusual, you may ask?  Yes indeed.  I suspect I am one of the last women on this earth who has never been to a nail salon for a bit of buff and polish.  I dare not, for fear of being laughed at or, even worse, becoming an object of sympathy and being spoken to in the tone of a doctor who has to inform the patient that he/she is in for a bout of chemo.

How do they manage to do anything -  those women who sport long, perfect fingernails, adorned with sparkly bits, stars, and stripes?  I've taken to wearing dark glasses whenever I go shopping.  Not to avoid the sight of my chipped offerings, but to protect my eyes from being blinded by the laser beams of light which glance off the claws of the sales assistants.  I have to take several deep breaths before approaching the checkout at my local supermarket.  The sight of those dazzling, dexterous till-tapping fingers is too much to bear, so I chuck my groceries into the cart at lightening speed with the result that my eggs are already scrambled, and the cream whipped before I exit through the revolving doors.

Lately, I have begun to flirt mildly with the idea of casting myself out of my outcastedness and entering the hallowed portals of naildom.  This weakening of my integrity has partly been prompted by my confusing "M" with "N" on my worn out keyboard, resulting in my being regularly bombarded with links to "N"ail salons instead of Yahoo "M"ail.  I believe in signs and portents, and fear this might just be one.

I could ignore this particular one, though.  I mean, how gullible can one be?  Signs and portents - huh!  Might as well believe my daily horoscope.  I play the piano, type, fiddle about with screwdrivers, and use good old soapsuds and water for household cleaning.   None of those ghastly chemical sprays and wipes for me.  I also abhor gloves of the rubber and gardening variety.  And when  I'm not busy shopping, scrubbing or gardening, I play the piano, type blog entries, e-mails and silly posts on Facebook, or knit.  It's bad enough having to wear my sunglasses every time I leave the house without having to wear ear muffs at home to drown out the incessant clackity-clack of perfect fingernails.

That's decided then.  And if that isn't enough, I will never forget a fellow pupil at the posh school I went to asking that girl with impossibly long fingernails:  "How do you manage to pick your nose without causing yourself a nasty injury?".