Getting into the car, I gave Veronica a poke in her side. Just playing around.<\/p>\n
“Ow! Mommy that hurt!”<\/p>\n
Whoops. I must have gotten her with my fingernail by accident.<\/p>\n
I was already in the driver’s seat by then. I stretched my hand back into her car seat area and said “I have CLAWS!”<\/p>\n
“Mommy! We don’t need to do that any more. Animals need to fight and use was to eat but we don’t.”<\/p>\n
I looked at my fingernails. They are not that long, half an inch at most.
\n“They are not very good claws,” I reply. “Maybe I should cut them off. Is that what you think?”<\/p>\n
She could be right. Mostly my fingernails disappoint me by breaking at inopportune times. They are not useful really.<\/p>\n
So why does it feel so sad, to trim short that small crescent of white on my finger?<\/p>\n
Once upon a time long nails were a sign of pampered luxury. Someone had long nails because he or she did not need to use hands for work.<\/p>\n
I want to work, and to look like I’m working. Yet\u00a0somehow my vanity is pleased to see my fingernails long.<\/p>\n
Self image\u00a0is a strange thing.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Getting into the car, I gave Veronica a poke in her side. Just playing around. “Ow! Mommy that hurt!” Whoops. I must have gotten her with my fingernail by accident. I was already in the driver’s seat by then. I … Continue reading