a day of debility

Mom treated us to nail spa services in Scottsdale yesterday. Mom had a pedicure; Mandy had a mani/pedi; I opted for acrylics. "I want to try something different," I said. "Maybe they'll stop me from biting my nails."

They stopped me from doing just about everything. Including, but not limited to:

• unpacking
• putting away the clean laundry
• chatting on facebook
• picking my nose
• cleaning the sink
• bookkeeping
• petting the cats
• applying facial moisturizer
• thinking clearly
• wiping my ass

In a matter of 24 hours those acrylic nails reduced me to blithering befuddlement. I lost IQ points. Couldn't think straight. Ana went with me to a local salon, where Debbie (whom I'm not entirely convinced started life as a woman) spent a good hour alternately soaking my fingertips in acetone and scraping at the acrylics with an emery board before resorting to the dremel.

At one point during the procedure she chuckled.

I asked, "What's funny?"

She said, "Oh, that acrylic is so thick even the dremel is bogging down. Sounds like a chainsaw."

"Maybe that's what we need."

On the walk back to her house, Ana observed that the things men perceive to be beautiful make women vulnerable: long nails, long hair, high heels. Long nails prevent you from making a fist. Long hair is easy to grab and use against you. It's impossible to run in high heels.

At least I'm not vulnerable.