Vanity . . . .

Nobody could describe me without saying that I am vain. Vanity is not a bad thing, just a personality trait for me. I don't go out of the house without make-up. I try not to be caught dead at the grocery store in sweats. I curl and primp my hair every day, even when I am sick. But the thing I am most vain about is my nails. They are sculptured (I don't call them "fake") and I have had them for 27 years, since my 13th wedding anniversary. Shocking, I know, but true.

They are long, always freshly painted and I owe them all to my beloved nail salon owner, Lisa, from Heaven and Earth. Once every two weeks I go and get my nails and toes done--a glorious 2 1/2 hour therapy session where I spill my guts, relieve all my tensions and leave with a smile on my face and a pep in my step. My nails are so beautiful at times that I get comments from the grocery checkers. They take my fifty-something year old hands and turn them into much younger versions. I love colors with names like "ChicaGo Get a Manicure" and "La Paz Itively Hot". OPI nail color is my key to happiness! Needless to say, I love my nails and I love my bi-weekly visit to the nail salon.

Today, in preparation for the surgery, I am getting them all cut down---not off--that would be too traumatic for me. I need to do it today because I am going to the shore for the 10 days prior to surgery and won't have a chance to get to the nail salon. We are literately coming back from the shore on Wednesday night and going to the hospital on Thursday morning.

Anyway, I need to get them cut completely down so that they can put the pulse ox on my finger during and after surgery and so I will be able to use the walker without slicing my palms to shreds. I also will not be able to get to the nail salon for at least 5-6 weeks. I will miss those visits with my "therapist". I think she probably knows more about my life than my own family. It's amazing how while I am sitting there aimlessly getting my nails done that I seem to be able to spill my guts to what should be a stranger. But . . . . I have been going to Lisa for nearly 20 years and she is no stranger. She has become a friend that I depend on to listen to my trials and tribulations. She doesn't think I am vain. She just laughs at my funny stories and supports me when I need it. She knows that I like the pedicure water hot and my nail colors should never be red--always something pink and purple. She knows I like oval nails, not square and that my right foot is slightly numb from the peripheral neuropathy. She knows that I have excruciating pain in both my knees and takes her time allowing me to put my foot on the stand at my pace, not hers.

I started this blog this morning talking about being vain but I realized I was thanking a good friend for being there for twenty years . . . . . and helping me to be vain if I want to be.