Times like this, I wish someone I knew shared my interests. I long for an ally during this impossible mission. If only my dog had opposable thumbs, I could teach him to do this for me. I must endeavor, all alone, to the terrifyingly difficult task of painting my nails with my non-dominant hand.
I’m right-handed, in a world designed for right-handed people. Yet, the world of nail painting doesn’t allow the same level of ease that cutting with a pair of scissors does. My left hand’s nails have been polished perfectly, with no flooded cuticles, and no stringy topcoat.
Now I must face my fears; now I must travel to new heights in my painting expertise. I must paint my right hand’s nails. That may not sound very scary, but when that nail polish bottle is staring directly into your eyes and the brush is taunting you with its ability to drip into your cuticles, you find out what kind of woman you are.
I lower the brush into the bottle, scrape off one side of the brush, leaving the perfect amount of polish on the bristles. Carefully I brush across the middle of my pointer finger’s nail. I go back in for a perfect second stroke across the left side. Then, just as I’m admiring my excellent control over the bright-red, cuticle-staining nail polish, my third and final stroke ends in tragedy.
The brush goes just a little too close to the cuticle, and that’s all it needs. The brush and cuticle make contact. The floodgates open up into the rest of the cuticle, promising to remain red until I whip out the evil, devilish, skin-drying acetone.
And that’s why only perfect people can use bright-red nail polish.
Emily Pineo is a high school sophomore. She enjoys painting her nails, studying law, and dancing. Emily is also eternally frustrated by her attempts to comprehend the Spanish language.