Everything About Me is Fake!

Okay, I will admit it: what appeals to me the most is what is not real. I love fake eyelashes, and would wear them every single day, if it weren't for the whole cleaning part. Seriously, I barely make the time to clean my house. Should I really be expected to peel mascara and glue off my fake lashes every single night? I have considered writing the fake-eyelash company to encourage them to produce 30 packs of lashes, one for each day of the month, just like those contacts that you wear once and toss.

Keeping with my tradition of looking fake--fake hair, fake eyelashes, fake white teeth, fake skin, fake perfection--I insist on wearing acrylic nails. They are perhaps the biggest hassle in my life. I hate my twice-monthly trip to the nail salon the way some people hate their twice-yearly visit to the dentist. Not only do I resent the time it takes and the overall atmosphere of the salon, I resent that acrylic nail filling causes me intense physical pain. Now, I typicaly tolerate pain quite well. I barely used my pain med pump following my C-section. My gallbladder was so painful and so infected that by the time I sought medical help, I was merely hours from a luxurious stay in the ICU from the dang thing exploding and infecting my entire body. I have four tattoos, and barely flinched during any of them. However, none of these experiences even come close to the pain I experience during a nail fill. I literally get sweaty while the pain radiates through my entire body, thanks to the nail bed burn caused by the combo of power drill and primer. I liken it to what prisoners of war must experience when they have bamboo shoots shoved under their nails to make them talk. Only this doesn't make me talk. It makes me clench my teeth in pain to prevent crying out.

Nevertheless, I had to have my nails filled in anticipation for my double date this weekend. A guy friend once pointed out that he's never known a guy to look at a girl and think, "Wow, she has really hot nails.". However, in the spirit of maintaining my fakeness, I still continue to wear fake nails, though I doubt I am fooling anyone.

My nail salon is located across the street from the bank I visit daily for work. I am often the only client in the salon, so I am doubtful as to the real purpose of this business. Money laundering, perhaps? While focusing on controlling my pain yesterday, it dawned on me that the salon is located next to a locally-owned shop called the "Hip Stufz". Hip Stufz would appear to be going out of business, based on a sign in the front window advertising "Store closing!!! Everything must go!!! Last hurra!!!". Hip Stufz has been going out of business since I started my job, where I've now worked for six years. Alas, I briefly considered a visit to Hip Stufz to check out the "last hurra!!!", hoping for a deal on the "Tight Butts Drive Me Nutz" t-shirt I once saw in the window.

Instead, I turned my attention to the television in the salon, which is always playing a movie that would be considered inappropriate for some audiences. As my eyes focused in, I realized that today's selection was the Will Ferrell movie I was forced to watch on my ill-fated Piper date. The irony...my physical anguish mixed with the mental anguish of being forced into watching this flick not once, but TWICE.

In another stroke of irony, this morning I got a random text from a number I didn't recognize, wishing me a happy Thanksgiving. Because I cannot let it go and assume it was just a wrong number, I had to Google the area code, only to find it originated from San Antonio, the home base of Piper, who so eloquently dumped me via text several months ago. I went back to analyze the message, and sure enough, the phone number started to look more and more familar. And then I smiled, not in pleasure because Piper was thinking of me, but rather in scorn, because the text actually read, "Happy thanks giving".

I smiled as I sent back a "Happy THANKSGIVING to you, too", smacking of fake sincerity, just like my acrylic nails, highlighted red hair, fake eyelashes and too-white teeth.