Sunday, October 9, 2011
Are you a Roxie or a Rose?
Those of you who've read THE PAPER ROSE CLUB will know exactly what I mean when I ask the question: Are you a Rose or a Roxie? I have always considered myself more a Roxie than a Rose and have taken great pride in that fact. I have never thought of myself as a high maintenance woman, so when my husband suggested that I get my nails done at a salon, I balked at the idea. Now I love pretty nails as much as the next girl, but I have never wanted to take the time to get them done, and it costs money! So, I have learned to make peace with my unattractive nubs, telling myself that I don't need such a luxury. Anyway, I decided (a weak moment, I suppose) to have my nails done. I went to the salon and got a full set (French manicure style). And, my sister treated me to a pedicure since it was my birthday. I was feeling really pampered, and my nails looked spectacular! Then, my sister, mom, and I decided to really splurge. We went to get a spray-on tan. If you've never had a spray-on tan, it's quite experience. You strip down buck naked and stand in this booth that sprays you all over (and I'm talking ALL OVER!) Anyway, before you get in the booth, you have to slather lotion or vaseline between your fingers, toes, the bottom of your feet, and any other place where the tanning solution tends to collect. The idea is for the tan to look natural, not like you've bathed in Q.T. So, here I am, trying to figure out how to unbutton my jeans with my "spectacular new nails" which are feeling more like Wolverine's claws at this point. And then comes the fun part where I have to rub lotion all over hands and feet while trying to keep it from gunking up under my nails.
When I finally emerged from the booth--new tan and smudge marks all over myself, my mother and sister asked, "Are you okay? It sure took you long enough."
"It's these stupid nails!" I exclaimed.
That afternoon, when my husband came home from work, I waved my nails in front of his face. "Oh," he said, a confused expression on his face, "I thought you were just going to get a manicure."
I've got to hand it to the Rose's of the world. It's a lot of work to be that high maintenance. I was a Rose for a day, and I was worn slap out, frustrated, and a little orange.
About a week later, I was sitting in church beside my husband, admiring my nails. My husband leaned over and asked me how I was liking them. I gave him a slight smile and whispered, "Hush little luxury, don't you cry. You'll be a necessity by and by."
Maybe we all have a little more Rose in us than we would like to admit. :-)
(If you'll look closely at the picture above, you can see my nails.)