Updated: Nov 6, 2018
Today my nail lady asked if I had my tits done. I shook my head in despair and explained that I had gained weight. She said they looked perky whilst her hands moved up and down, weighing the air in front of her chest. You know, gesturing the universal ‘boob signal’. I forgot about my shit day. I forgot about the fact that I have no internet as my new NBN provider is hopeless. I forgot about my electricity bill, the fact that my nails were the only necessity I could afford after paying the damn thing (yes, NECESSITY) I’m all for 'vintage chic' and 'simple living' however if my electricity provider had its way I’d be donning a bonnet and padding about the house with a candle on a tray as if it’s the fucking 1700’s. This chick can’t seem to catch a break from bills but wants to look put together whilst falling apart.
Anyhow, I was sitting adjacent the loveliest nail lady in the world until she needed to ‘take a piss’ … eloquent thing she was. I sat there all helpless, wrists lank, polish wet but comforted by the fact that at least my puppies looked good. I didn’t have my phone to scroll on as I’d just dropped it off to Apple to fix some technical mumbo jumbo in which I have lack of translation for but couldn’t help and feel a little trepidation. What happens if they go through my photos and jeer at the unflattering angles? Scroll through my emails (mostly Nigerian princes leaving me inheritances, maybe they'll claim it?) God forbid they laugh hysterically at my bank account. My face reddened on cue, palms sticky rivalling the texture of the tacky polish. I had the reaction a serial killer would have if someone had his/her password to their secret dead body album. A reaction that an unhappy housewife would have if her husband had waltzed in on her mid-session with a rogue pool boy. Oh, heeey anxiety, how ya doin?
Whilst I adjusted my posture (stuck those bad boys out more) with no Instagram to 'stalk' scroll … my mind rewinded its reel to a recent night out. I recalled my male friend talking about women and their weight. A subject which has sprung many a war in our time. Martial and gang related. A subject that should NEVER be uttered by a bloke. Anyway, whilst clutching his manly cider he stated in a backhanded complimentary kinda way “If I was a woman, I’d choose a body like yours, not hers "– points at model type at bar surrounded by eager males who obviously enjoyed her body - “Yours” he said with emphasis to drill in the fact that I didn’t look like said model type. “Kardashian” he mused and turned to the bartender to ask for a macho lime wedge, luckily as my face resembled the exorcist - minus the vomiting, which in hindsight would have helped me get that model-esque body, from dehydration nonetheless. I felt more Bruce Jenner mid transition then Kim K.
I snapped back to the present (just in time as I was considering having a SALAD for lunch) as a young girl burst into laughter, throwing her mane back with gusto, reminding me of a wild brumby. Her hair extensions caught my eye. They were the type your friends should steer you away from, thin on the bottom with obvious tapes jutting out the side of her head. She patted them affectionately and continued to giggle at something her ‘friend’ said (girls should tell girls when their extensions are on show #girlcode). Her foundation was layered thick, three shades darker then her neck. I started to wonder about these girls. Were they sisters? Both blondes were identical, one was immaculately dressed in what I assumed was designer and the other, an orange bandage dress. My nail lady came back and sat down, loudly advising me that she had a UTI. As she didn’t seem the type to hold back I pointed to the girls with questioning eyes.
“Oh them, we pay them to wear our nails" she shrugged … a frown of annoyance crossed my features as I wanted free stuff too! Then UTI nail lady showed me their Instagram. My jaw hit the floor. I religiously follow every celebrity as I like to feel like shit and compare my life. These girls had Instagram’s that could rival Bella Hadids or closer to home, Tammy Hembrows. They were out on yachts attending events in nice cars in Dubai…AND THEY LOOKED LIKE PEOPLE VERSION OF BRATZ DOLLS…. all looking eerily similar. If one of them did a murder and I was a witness I wouldn’t pick which one amidst all that hair and teeth. I swivelled my head and stared at them, then back to the gram. They were the type to have that teeth whitening device in their gobs on their pages, but Instagram makeup doesn’t transfer in real life as it does with filters and Facetune. This gave me an immense sigh of relief as I noticed that they were indeed beautiful but normal girls who also suffered the odd breakout. I could see pores, and their hips were entire. Which brought me back to something my girlfriend stated. Facetune is the gateway to plastic surgery. I had a muse over that. Are we all striving to look like an anime counterpart?
I have nothing against plastic surgery, in fact ,I’d probably resemble cat woman Jocelyn Wildenstein if I had the funds… but to see it more rampant amongst young girls makes me wonder if we are indeed more confident or simply insecure?
My suggested targeted advertisements on social media have recently been as follows: calf reduction and jaw filler (who would’ve thought the jutting jaw would be the next trend for females anyhow?) … We now want to look like human cash registers.
Back in my day *takes out walking stick and pats the horses that drive her cart* I would get publicly humiliated and ordered to wash my eyeliner off in school. These days you learn makeup early as a trade. Things have changed and although most progress is positive (equal rights and all) I am somewhat grateful that I grew up as a teenager when I did. It was bad enough comparing myself to my crushes ex-girlfriend or boyfriends favourite female celebrity (no shit, I didn’t speak to my boyfriend for days when he commented that Gwen Stefani was very attractive) but now you have the whole wide world at your fingertips to compare yourself too. Your partner probably follows a lot of these insta females and it’s the norm now. Getting the dopamine hit from staring at a stranger’s enhanced ass. Genetically blessed bastards and the photoshopped alike. It’s really daunting, even for me. You need a shit load of confidence to not get the tiniest bit jelly.
Ugh I hate my wandering mind, I had been oblivious to my tended nails and they had stuffed one up. I was forced to colour over it to make it an ‘accent nail’. Lucky they had gorgeous designs available. “How much?” I asked salivating. The blonde glared at me. (not you, the nail colour geeez) “$5 each” barked the not so nice lady next to me. “Too expensive for you, your shirt...it’s inside out” she cackled. Actually, that’s an understatement as she resembled a ‘LOL OMFG DYING’ Emoji. And that is why I don’t get paid to promote anything folks …. in my defense I had speed changed superman telephone booth style at the gym. Embarrassed, I chose the marble.…like an opulent kitchen top. It didn’t turn out like the reference picture. If there’s an opulent dumpster maybe. Thank god it’s Halloween as it looks like I have a flesh-eating bug residing there now but being the ever so polite person 'idiot, ' I am, I smiled, paid and left. SO now I need your help ladies. What does a girl need to do to get her nails done by a decent pro here? I require claws but I am breaking up with Westfield nail bars. Drop me some Instagram links so I can cease daydreaming and instead compare my fat fingers whilst simultaneously googling finger slimming as I already get the hand filler advertisements. #saveme #nailladywanted