Monday, February 8, 2010

Chipped Nails

I had a friend in college who was obsessed with hands. She judged people by their hands. She photographed hands. She looked for beauty in peoples' hands the way most would search faces.

I have always made my hands work and as I got older and they started to get rough and wrinkled, I thought it was a badge of honor - a sign of all my work and experience. But now, when I look at them, they look like the hands of an old woman. Really. I inherited the Irish skin of my ancestors which is thin and fragile. Now I put on lotions and gloves and try to protect them but I still use them everyday and work them. Fabrics, yarns, paints all take moisture out of the skin.

So I embrace my age. I embrace my tough side. I let them dig in. Of course, I wash them and moisturize them after.

Something I was told growing up is that chipped nail polish is a sign of a tacky person. A chip certainly destroys the dazzling, glamorous effect. Some people think that red nail polish in and of itself is tacky and/or trashy. But somehow, when I look at my nails that are severely chipped, short and spotted blood red, I feel like they go with my weathered skin. So I am keeping them around for a while longer.

You can't control what people think of you. You are not the good or bad that others think of you. I am getting older and I do work with my hands. Anyway, I am just in the mood to be a little grungy.

I am still wearing my skirts. I cleaned up my work space and I am getting my creative juices moving.

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