I know, I know, there’s no such thing as perfect. But there is such a thing as hand care, and I just maxed out.
I got my first manicure in a decade - a small rebellion against how I’ve been feeling lately.
The justification? It was my birthday. And while I’m not quite in the position for regular manicures, this one felt deserved.
Sitting with the nail technician, we started chatting about the crossover in our work: women and their relationship with their hands.
Whenever I attend an event selling rings, I hear the same things over and over…
Oh, don’t look at my hands…
I bite my nails.
They’re much too dry.
That finger there - it’s too wonky.
My hands are too short.
Too long.Too manly.
Too massive.
Too bumpy.
Too wrinkly.
Too ugly.
Too chunky, too chubby, too, too, too…
While she painted bold neon pink onto my nail, the technician told me that her friends hide their hands when they see her.
It’s a funny thing, being a woman in this commercial world - the drip, drip, drip of insecurity that we unknowingly absorb…
How do you feel about your hands?
I really fucking love mine.