Slow Down The World
I’ve heard murmurings of women (and men) wanting to venture back out into the world for a blow-dry or a manicure. Here’s how I feel about that:
In a drawer in my bathroom vanity is a shoebox filled with bottles of nail polish in assorted colors. I used to polish my own nails all the time. But when the “Gel” Manicure” came into existence I got hooked. It was too complicated a process to self-administer so I started treating myself to professional mani-pedis.
IMO the Gel Manicure is the best thing since sliced bread. Regular manicures chip in two days. But Gel lasts for two weeks. I have friends who swear it ravages the surface of their nails but as far as I’m concerned if it’s not a vital organ (my heart, my lungs, my liver) I’m good to go. Plus when I’m at the salon I get to sit in a massage chair and collect my bi-monthly thoughts. TMI? Just wait.
I came across that box of nail polish a couple of months ago when I was Marie Kondo-ing my life. Why did I still have it? I don’t do my own nails anymore. It’s taking up space so it was definitely NOT bringing me JOY! But the thing is, once in a blue moon the Gel chips prematurely and in that box is no doubt, a similar color with which to touch it up. That alone makes it worth hanging onto. Furthermore, it’s hard for me to part with stuff because as soon as I do something comes up that I need it for.
Like now.
With the advent of Covid my last Gel application (circa first week in March) peeled away. I hadn’t seen my naked nail beds in years. I was faced with the task of having to self-apply. 😳Here’s the problem: fingers are easy to reach. I bend my elbow and there they are. But toes are another story. They’re too far away! Even with the flexibility that yoga offers I simply can not bend down that far long enough to apply a double coat (and a top coat) to all ten toes and stay within “the lines.” But I hate naked nail beds. So…
I stretched, I grunted, I cussed…my work was sloppy but I did it. I painted my toes. It really made me appreciate Nina at Nail Spa. Then again…Nina doesn’t have to bend down. But still — feet are gross (except for when they’re tan.) I’ll be tipping her a lot more from now on...that’s if I’m lucky enough to see her again. I just hope that little salon still exists post-quarantine.
Sure it would be nice to venture into a salon that’s open and emerge an hour later with shiny fabulous fingertips but I refuse to put my health and the health of others at risk when we just don’t know for sure what we’re dealing with. It’s simply not essential. In hindsight I'd rather feel like an overly-cautious fool than regretful for having made a choice in the name of vanity.
I muse these thoughts as I drive south on La Cienega Blvd. in the middle of the afternoon with absolutely no traffic on my way to a doctor’s appointment where there will be nobody in the waiting room. When I left my house I realized how odd it was to well, leave my house! I felt liberated. I rolled down the window and turned up Classic Hits: “Ain’t Wastin’ Time No More.”
That was the highlight of my day. Something so simple!
At some point we’ll all get back to — I’m not going to say “normal” because who knows what normal will be? But whatever normal is, do I really want to return to a bra, mascara, shaving my legs? A wallet? A calendar? I’ve gotten used to the slow down. The 60 to 0. The leisure. The lazy. My brain is mush. Yesterday I missed a scheduled call because I was busy floating in the pool. Yeah, I’m worried about my planet, my country, my daughter’s future, my future. But I’m enjoying the floating. The simple.
As I drove back home from the doctor I noticed how dirty my car was. Yup. I’ll be more generous with the car washer as well especially if there are cherry pits in my ash tray. Waiters, waitresses, anyone who brings me a Chardonnay. Anyone who makes my life easier in some way. I have it good. I know it. I’m not in financial dire straights. I have two songs to thank for that. Two songs that were born in a pre-digital music economy!!! (That’s another subject…but I’m just sayin’.)
I don’t think it’s as bad to be in a bubble if you recognize you’re in one and you’re willing to examine and adjust your behavior.
I warned you about the TMI, didn’t I?
ANYWAY….I feel for the small business owners and I’ll bend over backward to support them when we’re on the other side — lavish them with patronage, purchase gift cards, go out to dinner more than necessary, bring friends. But for now and until further notice blow drys, Botox and fingernail refurbishment are sadly going to have to wait.
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Here’s a song I wrote with Guy Roche about 15 years ago. Celine Dion recorded it but it was never released. Both Guy and I stumbled upon it recently and brought it back into each other’s ether. I wonder why.
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