Mid-Week Confessions/Here's to the Ridiculous

  I have never, and I mean ever, been a girly-girl.  Shocking reveal....Not so much!  I could count on one hand the number of times I've had manicures and pedicures, YEP, that's correct, both of them combined.
  Anyway, I'm not sure what's come over me recently.  Maybe it's because my life is consumed by boys,  perhaps it's in the name of research, maybe it's been to spend some time with a new friend, maybe it's been a brief loss of sanity as I admire a different girlfriend's girliness, but I've focused a very small amount of attention on my nails lately.
  This seriously is a confession; if you'd known me in my youth you would likely be shocked to know I have a makeup bag at all!  (Growing up in the grunge fashion phase likely still has a lingering effect.) Set aside the phase I went through when I wouldn't leave the house without lipstick, or the short lived 5th grade blue eyeshadow that everyone was into, I have been a blank slate for most of my years.  I'll more than happily wear makeup now but it took a while; I didn't even wear more than mascara the day I got married. 
  Say WHAT?  
  CRAZY! 
  It wasn't until I was a part of a wedding and was strapped apprehensively to a chair and painted up by two of the most skilled and beautiful aunt-in-laws that a girl could ask for that a whole new world was opened up to me.  I was released from that seat and when I looked in the mirror I didn't recognize the girl who stared back.  Can you imagine?  23 or so years of staring at a blank page and suddenly it was splashed in magnificent, precise strokes of colour-shading at the hand of a skilled artist?  
  I was a new woman!  I took control after that liberating experience and haven't shut the door on the makeup room since, though, I still would hardly say I wear a lot of makeup.
  Well it never did carry over all the way.  My nails, my hands in general, are an atrocious site on a good day and now that I've messed with them they're worse.  It freaked me out to no end to see them looking all fancy; I was less freaked out when my fingers were torn off my hand.  (Last summer it took a handful of stitches that were absolutely necessary after a baseball decided to take an evil and maniacal leap straight at my face. Luckily I'm still quick, but not quick enough!  And that right there puts a solid stamp on who I am than all the makeup in the world.)
  It revealed several things to me:
  Number 1: I talk with my hands...a lot, I'm like a conductor or a professional hand dancer. And the problem here is that my eyes crept to my shiny finger nails more often than they held focus on the eyes I was trying to communicate with; very distracting.
  Number 2: my fingers no longer looked like mine.  Instead they looked like my mother's. Now there is nothing bad about this fact, I love my mama, but it simply freaked me out.  Number 3: I hated it, it wasn't me in any way.  And I heard the argument You'll get used to it several times over the two weeks I lived in fancy-nail-world, but the truth of the matter is, I didn't and don't want to get used to it.
  So I removed that mishap of a choice and as I wait for my nails to repair themselves I will dabble in the unnoticeable nude shades of polish.
  So though I will admit to wanting to be surrounded by more and more girlie things as I grow comfortable in this ever changing world of womanhood, (and being surrounded by a world of boys likely doesn't dissuade the cause) I now know that particular world of girlie is not for me.
  I told you it was ridiculous. It also tells you more about me than I'm used to sharing.  So there you go....another Mid-Week Confession for you to laugh about!
  Everyday I learn a little more about the woman I am, and that is one thing I will happily confess to you any time of the week!