Sunday, September 1, 2013

I'm Not Doing My Nails

Recently I noticed that my fingernails were too long. Unlike the hairdo I'm sporting these days, I prefer to keep my nails short. I don't know quite when they grew. Even though the rest of my body's growth has long since stagnated, my nails seem to have found a metaphorical fifth gear.

That isn't a problem; what is a problem is that I've used my nail clippers a few times too many to cut very small strands of wire which I use occasionally as throttle cable and brake lines on model car kits. (I'm a kid at heart.) That leads to a real hassle whenever my cuticle cuties need a trim.

That's what leads me to type this, albeit with sore fingertips. The Trimlines, which I purchased at what used to be known as Revco, have developed a dent at the cutter part courtesy of several mils of wire cutting. That's what finally led to some ugly nails and a lot of wasted time. Starting with the small finger, I clipped the nail. I didn't notice it until all of them were neatly trimmed, or so I thought.

Every nail had an identical, inward-pointing cut area juxtaposed against the natural convex shape of that nail.

The only way to deal with that, of course, was to use the little file-thing located just beneath the handle.

Ever use one of those things? I can tell you that I did more to remove the outer layer of skin than the nail tip itself. It didn't smooth out the nail tip so much as it left a lot of fingernail dust. The file failed to make the rest of the nail flush with the cut-in area. The file looks like chrome-plated, case-hardened steel. Seemed like pretty dependable material. That's why I was surprised that the thing was only up to the task of being a weapon against its user. Now faced with the unenviable task of using the clippers again, I pressed on with the intention of avoiding the dented part.

This time, I was left with shorter nails than before -along with the same concave cut which I had tried, in vain, to smooth out before.

This left me with an option: I could either give up and let the nails grow out, or I could implement some of my model-building tools. The cutter/grinder in my arsenal spins at approximately thirty thousand rpm. With a small sandpaper attachment, I just knew I could eliminate those pesky too-short areas in my nails.

Indeed I did. Amidst more nail dust, a few stifled ouches, and a motorized tool which lent itself to provoking my tinnitus, my beauties were finally uniform. Heck, they might even have looked like they were professionally done by Madge for all I know.

They were also too short for comfort. If someone were to ask me why I haven't bought a new pair, I'd have to say it's because I'm a guy. We don't think about things like that. It's too easy to become distracted by the spark plug gapping tools on sale at the car parts store to remember that the quick under your nails is still hurting. It's also convenient to buy a bottle of Mountain Dew from the cooler next to the checkout counter to provide cold to your pained nails when we do remember that we're in pain. Women, of course, would bypass everything else and head straight to a beauty supply store for a pair of clippers, thereby eliminating the problem.

I'll continue to press on, hardy stock that I am, using bent nail clippers and high-rpm grinders, unless someone can remind me to pick up a pair of clippers the next time I'm in Aisle Four at the supermarket. I'm a guy.

And I'm not doing my nails.

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