So off I went to Tropical Popical with a couple of pals on Sunday, to get me extended.
It works like this: nails are prepped, filed and buffed well to act as a key for what’s next, before plastic extensions are added to the tips, then trimmed and filed into shape. I didn’t want crazy long but I did want pointy, so that was duly done. A layer of pale pink gel is applied, nails are UV-cured and then a much thicker layer of gel gets teased into place; they’re cured, buffed and the colour tips are painted on using regular polish (I’m pretty sure this is a Jessica shade… pretty sure) before a high shine topcoat is added. Sounds simple, eh? It’ll actually take about 40-to-50 minutes with all the hoppin’ and trottin’, and it’ll cost about €45.
And, I think (hope) you’ll agree, it looks abso-bloody-loutley AWESOME.
I love my nails! I can’t stop touching them/looking at them/admiring them/kissing them. They’ve elongated my stubby hands, they’re supah-bright and a taxi driver admired ’em yesterday AM, which made me ridiculously giddy.
So yeah, I’m a fan. But because they’re so long and talony, they’ve effectively turned my hands into useless plates of meat. Ham hocks, if you will. Since my new nails have gone on I’ve been on a steep learning curve to learn how to use my hands differently; more better; super-glamorously. Here are some of my dilemmas.
iPhone? Hahahah, I can forget using that for the time being.
- Shredded my tights while putting them on.
- Taken 45,000 years to type this post because I keep having to correct all the mistakes that I’m making, cos I can’t type proper naow.
- Had to learn to use the pads of my fingers and the sides of them to do, well, anything. Including typing. IT’S SO HARD.
- Further to point 3, I’ve almost sent any number of scarlo-fying texts, tweets and missives due to sloppy typing.
- Been making irritating clicking noises constantly (ok, I love them, I sound so efficient!)
- Am functionally unable to grip tiny things because the tips of the nails are thick, therefore hopeless for picking anything up.
- Stabbed my boyfriend repeatedly (well, some of was intentional).
- Been completely unable to do up buttons or wear jewellery with lobster clasps.
But you know what? I don’t care. I love them with an intensity that equals the fire of a thousand burning suns. Like, a lot. They should last me two-to-three weeks (I’m guessing two based on my mani track record) and if I get used to my new long-nailed way of being, I’ll definitely have ’em refilled. Because, have I mentioned I love them?