It’s a somewhat late post as I fell asleep on the sofa. That magical I’ll just have forty winks that turns into forty minutes. 🙂
As I nodded off, I found myself thinking on what might it be like to have had my nails done. Or, perhaps more accurately, what happens if, hypothetically, I started to drift into a more mixed appearance. To see my fingers a little fancier than they are now?
Given its very much long trouser weather – and indeed occasionally thermals too – keeping my legs hair free has been a blessing. It’s not like I’m dressing at all or even undressing, but having my body appear as I feel it should makes a big difference to feeling okay.
I remember watching a documentary hosted by Grayson Perry – as I find his discussions of society fascinating and thought provoking – and he was very much in bloke mode. Yet, as he crafted a piece of art, I noticed his pink nails.
I don’t yearn or need to have my nails done. It was more the thought at what point does someone start to mix things up? Where does that take you? Well, other than the manicurist when they’re allowed to open. 😉