Burgundy Dreams?

Sunday turned out to be the pick day to go get our nails done again. This time I did away with the red and went with a deep tone of burgundy.

I was fortunate in getting the same nail tech I had last time. She does a good job and speaks enough English I can understand her. Plus, this time around, I started to calm down and enjoy the experience.

During my visit I couldn't help but notice an older man and his wife getting pedicures. His wife looked totally ill at ease, so I couldn't help wondering if there wasn't more to the story. At any rate, I heard him proudly claim he didn't want any color on his toe nails and why wasn't there nail polish for men. I was thinking he could have gone for some sort of clear coat but he didn't.

At any rate, I am finally getting to the point where I can calm down and really enjoy the experience. Even without the distractions.

Comments

  1. Well, since nail polish has no gender, I guess it's for whomever wants it! I often see couples getting pedicures together - even whole families. I have yet to see a man by himself, though.

    This reminds me of when I was still but dipping my painted toe to test the waters of transition. A number of years ago, I had an experience that was seminal to my finally accepting myself for who I was. Because my cash flow had become so sporadic (I only worked as my male-self, but was only presenting that way about 15% of the time), I was behind on paying my water bill. The utility company sent out a technician to either collect or shut off my water, but I was afraid to answer the door with my female presentation. By the time I "undid" myself to stop it, the tech had done his work at the meter. I was told that I could pay with a credit card over the phone, and the tech would return to unlock my meter that afternoon - but I had to be there when he was. So, to make sure I wouldn't miss him, I decided to do some work outside. I was up on a ladder, that I had put up in haste, when he showed up, and so that worked out OK, and the water was back on. Not long after he left, though, the ladder slipped out from under me, and I crashed to the surface of the deck, hitting my head on a ladder wrung. My neighbor heard it, and ran over to help.

    Long story short, I was rushed to the hospital in an ambulance because I had concussion symptoms. The first thing they did in the emergency room was to remove my clothing, and when they got to my socks, there were my freshly polished toenails, exposed for all to see! I joked that I was outed now, but the nurses were completely ambivalent.

    So, I learned a lot that day. Painted toenails are nothing compared to a serious injury. Had I not been afraid to answer the door to pay a bill that wouldn't have been overdue in the first place, if I'd just been living my life earnestly, none of this would have happened. Within weeks, I had secured work as my feminine-self, and I never hesitated to open my front door again. Eventually, I also learned that, although coming out requires the opening of a door, keeping it open allows for others to come in, as well.

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