Tuesday, June 20, 2017


     It started in church last Sunday. I looked down and spotted blue toenails. Painted, not frostbitten. Shimmering blue, almost a cobalt blue. Only my proper upbringing stood in the way of my asking about the nail polish— but what to ask? 
     After the service I happened upon a conversation between some rather conservatively dressed women. These were not folks who wore tee shirts emblazoned with graffiti. They were gray haired ladies. Yet, one woman not only sported colorful nails, but she also had a design painted on her big toenail. The other women spoke in glowing terms of going for a pedicure and then having their toes painted. 
     While at the Hair Salon I couldn’t miss the cherry red enamel toenails belonging to one hairdresser nor the cross between maroon and deep scarlet red toenails of the woman clipping my hair. Then when I sat down to wait before the next step in the process, I took out my book, and noticed the blue-black painted  toenails of an older woman. An imposing woman who probably inched close to six feet. I didn’t stare, but couldn’t miss the big toe design.
    And tonight my next door neighbor took me into her backyard to see her flowers— 
and her nails were coral.
     Doesn’t anyone read  the articles warning customers of the health risks? 

     There was even a story about “death by pedicure.”



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