on painting my nails.

There was a very brief time where I started a blog with photos of my nails.

Over the summer I had developed a slight obsession with painting my nails all sorts of vibrant colors and coated in glitter (lots of it). I spent much of my time consuming horrible television and pouring over pages of nail blogs which resulted in me purchasing a ton of cheap nail polish and working hours on new nail designs.

Here’s the thing: I worked at a restaurant. As a server. In a fast paced-cant-stop-for-a-moment-to-breathe-where the hell is table 12’s food-sort of restaurant.

The restaurant is really great and nobody has ever mentioned anything about painted nails. I appreciate this.

So, during the summer when I was working 40 hours at the restaurant and being thought of only as a server, I painted my nails religiously. Now, as a full-time student and have jobs that mainly require me to sit in front of a computer, it’s less much of a priority.

It wasn’t until last week that figured out why it was so important to me. When I was working as a server, people rarely ever saw me as a human, more of a thing that brought them food. But when I painted my nails, customers were likely to comment on them, and for a second they would recognize my humanity. It was a fleeting moment, and made me feel less depressed by the lack of connection people would show so often. So painting my nails was a defense mechanism, a method of recognition. A labor of love, one might say. Doing this made me feel visible in an otherwise invisible industry.

Do any of you do this? With your clothes? Or do you work on your appearance as a performance?

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One thought on “on painting my nails.

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