There was a time when my kids were small and personal grooming consisted entirely of no milk stains on the shoulders of my suits. Spa
treatments were a fond memory and using the toilet on your own an indulgent luxury. When reaching under the sofa for a Lego brick could result in your big toe nail getting stuck between the floor boards.
Gladly those days are receding and I have more time since my two ‘pet lambs’ are in primary school. As #redundancy has made me a lady of enforced leisure I have found time for personal care routines that I had long since forgotten. Around January when the ominous word #‘re-structuring’ was first quietly uttered – I went on the look-out for my manicure bag. This rare red tartan fashion statement was given to me as a Christmas present over twenty years ago. It has grown and
shrunk with me – well while I have grown and grown and again grown 🙂 -See forthcoming #slimming world post 🙂
My manicure bag has mad purples, electric blues and wicked fuchsia pinks of the 1980’s. It has the ‘I have a proper job now so I will wear muted pale pink now’ colours. It has the over ambitious French manicure (3 bottles and stick on tips to get that straight line) and latterly the American polish. It has an extensive range of cuticle utensils. It has rose oil I picked up in Cyprus in 1999 to massage those stressed out finger nails. It has an old hard metal nail file from when I did my A levels in 1986. It is a veritable time capsule of my metacarpals of the last twenty years.
I admit that the ‘fashion crisis’ manicure bag was missing in action for a few years. But my, how it has made up for lost time in the last few months! I have buffed, filed and massaged those nails. They have been soaked, exfoliated and moisturised. They have been painted
three or four times a week. Safe to say they haven’t had this much attention since 1984 when I would have re-painted my entire parent’s house simply to avoid revision.
So now my nails are reaping the vast rewards of redundancy! There is something of a nail renaissance going on in our house. I can easily be found any night below the standard lamp with the glasses half way
down my nose as I gently massage on my Cyprian rose oil and decide whether its electric blue or muted pink. Redundancy allows
personal statements so purple on the school run – why not!
