I’m in a serious, committed relationship with my nail polish. We’ve been together for three weeks now, and I’m not seeing an end in sight. I’m starting to forget what life was like before we found each other. Did I really ever wear black nail polish? (I did.)
a bad picture of the infamous nail polish
Before I met my nail polish soul mate, I was stuck on navy. Before then, it was red. But now that I’ve found this color, I feel like we can grow old together. I will see my husband graduate from college while wearing this nail polish. I will rock my firstborn to sleep while wearing this nail polish. Am I getting carried away here? You see, I don’t really know how to like things as much as I know how to love them, and once I find something I love, I tend to stick with it. I am not really adventurous when it comes to… anything. My closet is filled with black and white striped shirts, so I look like a cartoon character when I’m getting dressed in the morning:
My style is really predictable, and it has been for the last five years or so. My family teases me about dressing like a grandpa, and Tyson always says that he wishes I would add some color into my wardrobe. In an attempt to do so, I bought a shirt with neon pink polka dots yesterday. I’m still sort of torn about it, mostly because it looks really out of place in my closet, like it’s drowning in a sea of different shades of gray. I know I’m kind of boring, but if loving striped shirts and nude nail polish is wrong, then I don’t want to be right.