my first love

I remember so clearly the first time…

I was visiting Chicago in February 2001.  Contemplating life.  Contemplating moving.

I went to get a manicure on the referral of a friend.  My nails were probably a good inch long above the free edge (a bit longer than they are now).  I rarely let ANYONE touch my fingernails.  I just didn’t trust them – still don’t.  I HATE filing-happy manicurists in much the same way a lot of Black women hate shear-happy hairstylists, lol.  My nails are natural!  I feel like that abundance-of-filing-crap habit comes from doing acrylic or gel nails…and the like.  So, NO, I do NOT want you weakening and splitting the shit out of my nails with your wretched emery board or buffing square.  GO AWAY!

So this nail salon visit was RARE!

I took the train and got lost.  After finally finding the correct building, I made my way to the elevator.  My poor naïve soul happened to land an elevator ride with a young man reeking of weed.  He was done.  High as hell.   And his half-opened eyelids ratted him out big time.  In my wonderfully sheltered existence, I wasn’t aware at that time, weed is not the “drug” that makes folks dangerous.  So my ignorance made me skeptical and worried. He kept looking at me so I was absolutely certain I was going to have to fight him or something.   I was so relieved when the elevator dinged on “my” floor…

..but why did this dude get off right behind me????….. slowly…. and head in the same direction I went.  OH NO!!!  HE’S FOLLOWING ME!!!!!  😦

We both went into the nail salon.  The manicurist spoke to him…. he had a seat…..

oh. -__-  no harm was to befall me.  smh.

I sat and waited as she polished the client before me who had this STUNNING polish on her nails.  So, I queried, “What color is that?”

“I’m not really a waitress.”

“I’m sorry.”  WTH?! These people are weirdos!  I didn’t ask what she did for a living though.  “No, I was asking what the name of that polish color was.  I like it.”

Turning and facing me with a chuckle, “That’s the name of the polish.  I’m Not Really A Waitress.”  Then she AND the manicurist laughed.

Embarrassed and still slightly puzzled….. “Really????”

That was my introduction to the wonderful world of OPI. LOL.

Their polish naming is probably more popular than their actual polish for most folks.  I have since been in an unfaltering love relationship with “I’m Not Really A Waitress” and OPI.  It’s my favorite nail polish brand, barring none other that I’ve tried.  My second favorite colors are “La Paz-itively Hot” for my toes, and “Cozu-melted in the Sun.”

My love hasn’t died.
My knowledge of weed…. well, now I understand.  hahahahaha

OPI – “I’m Not Really A Waitress”

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