Saturday 03 April 2004

Surgeon General's warning

Today's Warning for Beauty Junkies or Newbies Everywhere (brought to you by Jules, who found out the hard way ... )

-- DO NOT have beauty-salon manicures.  DO NOT have and continue to have your nails "done" with gel overlays or tips.  DO NOT, I say.  Just say no.  Especially -- and this is important -- if you have not had manicures before and have basically healthy nails and halfway decent cuticles.  If you have never had a manicure ever ever ever, and have good strong nails and cuticles, then don't go near a manicurist with a fifty foot pole attached to your head by a cherrypicker. 

Here's the story.  A couple months back, Fifi asked if I'd be a "guinea pig" at her new place of work (an otherwise very good beauty salon especially for waxing and massage etc) for a manicure and gel overlays.  Gel overlays are kinda new on the block here in Perth; they're a step-up from acrylic nails apparently, supposedly kinder to nails and more natural and bendy.  You can either have overlays - which is just the gel solution and two coats of special gel colour applied over your own nails - or tips, which are like acrylic nails in that they extend the length of your own nails and are coloured as per the overlays.

Well, I'm up for a new experience, my nails were looking gorgeous and I thought a manicure would be fun and a nice thing to do, also free!  Now my nails have a history; I have always been a truly disgusting nail-biter and -chewer - as if biting the actual nails wasn't gross enough I had to chew and tear the skin all around the nails, resulting in a raggedy frequently bloody mess.  I've quit, and rescinded, several times.  The last few years though I seem to have kicked the habit for good, and my nails grew back.  Surprisingly, they did not grow back weak and twisted and emotionally crippled but immensely strong and straight.  The cuticles were nicely shaped and unragged.

Yeah, I say were.  Fifi gave me a lovely manicure, buffing and shaping, and put gel overlays on my nails, with a lovely shimmery bronze colour and I must admit they looked good, damn good.  Then the gel stuff started to peel back, and right off (and I pulled it the rest of the way; damn salon did not give me any of the special "soak-off" stuff).  And underneath, my used-to-be-lovely long strong nails were fucked, totally utterly screwed.  They were weak, they split and tore, they were ridged and powdery looking, and the cuticles were ragged and soon the entire lot fell victim to my nibbling scraping teeth.  BAH. 

This was not Fifi's fault.  When I chatted to her last, she rolled her eyes and let loose with a "goddammit" on my behalf.  She told me she's lost count of the times girls have come into her salon with gorgeous nails and cuticles - never having had a manicure or used polish even - and soon they're back every other week for maintenance.  Her lesson* (this from a really damn good beauty therapist):-

"LEAVE YOUR NAILS ALONE.  DO NOT TOUCH OR BITE YOUR NAILS.  DO NOT PAINT YOUR NAILS WITH HORRIBLE CHEMICALS.  DO NOT BUFF THEM.  LEAVE YOUR NAILS ALONE."

* she has similar thoughts on Brazilians and other treatments too; a no-bullshit lady, my Fifi.

Leave your nails alone, kids.  I don't know how long before my nails start looking halfway decent again; right now I have Bandaids on three fingers, have the nails trimmed guy-short and am slathering Vaseline Intensive Care on my poor hacked-up cuticles at every opportunity.  Maybe six months at this rate.

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Today was officially A Grand Day Out, one of the best.  A combination of factors made it so; one another's favourite company in excellent bubbly but relaxed moods, successful errands, unexpected good luck, and (yes yes) more shopping - 100% for efficacy of successful retail therapy as a valid mood-enhancer. 

First up was a visit to the hairdresser (sorry, "stylist").  We got a lift from the PUMS who were headed for errand-running in the same neighbourhood, and getting there half an hour early dropped into a cafe, where I had the worst latte of my entire life, I've had mugs of Nescafe with whitener and boiling water poured over that tasted better.  To add insult to injury, only Tuxedo was getting his hair cut; I was in desperate need of a cut but hadn't been able to get an appointment around the same time as the boy, so had to wait for later in the week.  Bah.  As we were walking into the salon, I remarked to Tuxedo (in a whisper) "gosh wouldn't it be nice if C. had a cancellation or could fit me in, maybe I should stack on a tantrum, burst into tears, have a nervous breakdown, anything to get my bleaughy hair cut!".  Well, those miscellaneous pagan gods were listening ...

As we said our hellos to C. I asked (in plaintive whimper) if there was any chance she could fit me in 'cause, 'cause ... and miracles of miracles she'd just had a cancellation.  So I had my hair cut after all - again with the short choppy layers, so cute!  Tuxedo's new 'do is also a great success, he is going shorter and spikier with every cut I swear, and it suits him most admirably (I get a giggle out of our wedding photos now, where we both have this long-haired hippie thing going).

Then we did some geeking-out, in a bike shop this time, Tuxedo coming away with some new bike kit (which also suits him most admirably, mrowr).  A quick trip into town for comfy groovy new trainers for Tux, a chance for me to use my D*mocks voucher (I got David Attenborough's Life On Air:  Memoirs) and a couple of tops at Su$$an.  I just got three plain long-sleeve Ts, but am on the look out for something slightly dressier - saw a couple of possibilities at some minor boutiques - and Tux found me a gorgeous black-and-white knit jacket cardigan, tres chic and just the kind of thing I needed.  Clever boy, then.  And home again, home again, jiggety jig (after a late lunch - divine sushi combo for me, foccacio for Tux).

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And a happy birthday to my mother in law Alexandra - who doesn't read this of course and quite likely does not know how turn on a computer let alone Google - but I love her and hope she has a very happy day and a really great year ahead, with lots of fun and enjoyment and no worries (because she worries about everybody because she is that kind of person).

Now my mother is not a mumsy sort of person (obviously) but Tuxedo's mum is, which I found difficult to relate to at first, but now I really appreciate both her and the difference between my mum and mum-in-law.  She's a lot of fun, Alexandra, especially when you get a couple of glasses of wine into her - we used to have great tipsy giggly confiding chats in the kitchen when she and Nicholas came over for dinner back in Belfast. 

We gave her a teddy bear for her collection - a cute articulated bear dressed up in overalls with a wee backpack and a wooden fishing rod that actually reels in and out - we posted it off last week and by some chance it got there today so yay!  She loves it, apparently, and has it sitting next to her on the bed.  Hee.  Another reason she and I get on well - we appreciate each other's love of collecting plushies and toys and acting like big kids.  My mum doesn't get why I collect horses and plushies at all, thinks it is very silly and babyish ... which it may well be but boo-yah I says.

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And now for the requisite doting Aunt update:  Reuben is now CRAWLING.  He started to wriggle and "swim" a little on the floor last week, but quickly got the hang of that and is now self-powering himself across the floor by hands/arms and pushing with feet/legs, with his chest held quite high off the ground.  He's five months old and I think David and Micah are a little freaked out that their squirmy grub is so mobile ... He makes good speed and has already chinned himself on bricking, fireplace edging and furniture.  I foresee some super-fast child-proofing in the near future.  He is a very happy baby most of the time, when he sees me he laughs and gabbles away at me excitedly, he feeds with absolute concentration and determination (sounds like a little piggie at a trough when he's at Mummy's good stuff) and has the fattest most edible looking legs I've seen on a kid.  I'm glad I like him.

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I am writing up a heap of new Reviews and Recommendations but keep getting distracted; anyway coming soon write-ups of Oryx and Crake (finished - liked but not loved it); Nature Via Nurture (yes I know I'm taking forever over this one but (a) it deserves the time and (b) see getting distracted, above); The Red Tent; and a bunch of others that have been "in draft" for way too long and need to be finished up, already.  I will emphatically not be writing a review of I Don't Know How She Does It by somepersonorother, because I bloody wish she hadn't bothered; one of the most annoying and crap books I have ever read and I understand that "mommy-lit" was the inevitable follow-on from "chick-lit" but how much more utter crap, unrealistic expectations, self-castigation and stereotypical drivel do we need?  Meh.  What are you reading that's good - I need to take the taste away?

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