How
Nail Polish Was Invented
When
I was younger,
I
used to walk through school with my head down.
Loneliness
was a storm cloud hanging over me on the playground,
where
I sat on the empty swing set,
hoping
someone would say “hi” to me.
But
no one ever noticed the plain girl
in
her clothes of gray and black and brown.
Boring,
quiet, timid;
not
an ounce of confidence in her body.
Years
later, a trip to the tiny drugstore next to the movie theater
resulted
in the purchase of three bottles of nail polish.
Indecision
over which color to paint my naked nails—
purple
or pink or blue,
all
vibrant hues,
all
bold choices—
led
to the application of all of them.
Ten
fingers,
three
colors,
one
kaleidoscopic mess in the bathroom.
My
hands were blindingly bright and smudged and messy,
because
of course I didn't actually know how to apply nail polish,
not
like the nice ladies at the salon my mother used to take me to.
The
nail polish was extreme,
a
bit garish,
but
when I walked into school the next day,
my
bland clothes did not seem so bland next to my flashy nails.
So
I smiled at my classmates,
and
they smiled back,
and
at recess, I was no longer alone.
