Average Jane vs. Her Fingernails

The last time I felt flush with cash and went to get a pedicure, I decided to get a manicure as well. It was just clear polish and a remedy for my many hangnails, but I enjoyed having well-groomed fingers and decided to let my nails grow for a while.

I’ve never had much luck growing my nails and my rule has always been, “Once one breaks, the rest must go, too.” This time, though, they just kept growing. I don’t know if I’m getting lots of unexpected gelatin in my diet or if it was the polish, but my nails simply didn’t break. They grew and grew until there was no polish on the last third of the nail surface. I even had to file them one day so they’d keep their shape. It was a fun experiment at first, akin to growing a colony of Sea-Monkeys, but with far less maintenance.

Soon, however, I began to remember why I usually keep my nails short. The length of my nails started to hinder my daily activities: they collected remnants of cookie dough, hand lotion and bar soap, and they sometimes got hung up between the computer keys when I typed. When I put my hands in my jacket pockets, my nails dug into my palms. No doubt to the annoyance of my co-workers and friends, I added a new kind of fidgeting to my repertoire: tapping my nails on things. My little experiment was becoming a nuisance for everyone.

Last night I’d finally had enough. I was awake in the middle of the night with another bout of cold-induced insomnia and surfing the ‘net when I decided I could no longer stand to type with my nails scraping the laptop keys. It took less than a minute to undo the weeks of nail growth progress and return to my short, practical manicure. Ahhh! The feel of my fingertips on the computer again!

Now I’m adding long fingernails to the same category as pointy-toed shoes. They’re attractive and all, but the suffering outweighs any possible benefits. That’s why I’ll never be particularly fashionable: I’d much rather feel good than look good.