Red Nails

I have long red nails. I am madly in love. They are divine. They are real, and when I lift up my teacup, I feel like a lady.

I remember looking down at my hands my whole life and seeing short, stubby fingers with no nail beds. Playing the role of the “klutz”, using a nail file was impossible with my non-dominant hand. Many years ago, I gave up on the idea that I could have long nails. “No, not possible”, said my limiting belief. I thought I had to get stick-on nails; I told myself that with my clumsy hands. I wouldn’t be able to eat, turn a page, or drive the car.

Completely obsessed with my friend’s beautiful orange nails, I realised there was a deep yearning in me to feel ladylike. Maybe it was time to let go of the “klutzy”? Discovering BIAB, a natural builder that changes the structure of your nail beds, offered me an opportunity to question my beliefs, and I decided to have a go at growing them out.

I felt this was something I was doing for me; it was received as an external enhancement of my body, but it felt deeply internal. There is much to say about external versus internal. As I raise children in a world where I want them to value who they are, putting energy into my beauty felt contradictory. Yet I cannot stop thinking of the Tantric predicament, the body as a temple.

One expression of true love is the appreciation of beauty in all shapes and forms. The curse of modern society, I believe, and especially AI in the digital age, is how the currency of likes has positioned women especially but also men to require a certain way of looking, a certain way of presenting, in order to be acknowledged as beautiful. This is a terribly harsh reality.

After some deep inquiry, I decided that for me this was not about attracting a partner or seeking male approval, as I will admit some things I do are. It was a deep desire to see a graceful and colourful composure in my own hands; to allow and be open to different ways of relating with my body and with myself.

It started with simple, natural colours, slowly progressing to a classic deep red. After a few rounds, my hands felt as though they were taking on a new Persona, yet it strangely feels as though this character is my best friend from childhood, the one I know inside and out; she feels like a part of me, gorgeous, articulate, precise with her gestures.

My red nails are delightful. They brighten my day when I hold a pen or pat Simba the cat. They give me a sense of maturity and sophistication that is delicious and refreshing for the eyes and soul; they support me on my current journey toward the next stage of wisdom, reminding me that beauty is everywhere.

Inspiring me daily to snap a photo, to model them against different objects, textures, and light. They are a little gift to myself, a way of embodying new parts as they emerge, and of letting go of old, limiting beliefs. Now I ask: what is next? What else have you told yourself that you cannot do? When I look down at my red nails, they remind me that anything and everything is possible with a dash of courage a positive attitude, and a willingness to see another perspective.

XX,
Tahl

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