Mom’s not big on artificial nails. She usually maintains her nails to a length that is comfortable to type and do normal tasks with.
However, lately, she’s been thinking of pampering herself. Pampering like getting her nails done with maybe those tips and having them painted striped like a tiger. Mom’s weird.
So she goes to the local nail salon. There’s some cultural and language differences. For example, in other countries, it’s perfectly acceptable to greet someone with, “Hi how you doing where you been boy did you get FAT!” And I’m serious. This is a norm. Mom knows this, and wasn’t offended.
She sat down at the table and inquired about her desired nails. The Nice Lady quoted a price, lengths of tips were shown, and then Mom asked, “How do you remove them?” as she eyed the evil looking “dremel” type machines that lined each nail station.
“We file them and we suck them off,” explained the Nice Lady.
“You what?” asked Mom, in disbelief.
“File them down, then suck them off,” repeated the Nice Lady, showing Mom a soaking bowl for her fingertips.
Mom had a momentary mental flash of the Nice Lady with all four fingers shoved down her throat. She stifled a giggle and said that she wasn’t sure about the filing, that she’d think about it. Mom then thanked the lady for her time and left.
When Mom got home, she explained that it wasn’t polite to laugh but she couldn’t get that image out of her head.
Then she sat down at the kitchen table and polished her own, short nails “Calypso Blue” with two coats of “Disco Ball” glitter. She told me that if she had a hard time removing the glitter with a cotton ball, she’d suck it off.
Woof! Love, Maggie