I got my toenails shellacked yesterday. They look like beautiful pink jewels and they’re supposed to stay that way for a month. At least that’s what the man said at the nail place where I got them done yesterday. (Don’t bother warning about shopping centre nail shops–I love them).
Anyway I was feeling pretty darn good about my jewel toes, sitting there with them under the UV setting light when my day was spoiled, no ruined, nay absolutely annihilated when the toe nail painting lady uttered that most dreaded question. “So when’s your baby due?”
I’m not pregnant.
I was actually wearing a dress that even Trinny and Susannah would have approved of. All v-necked baby soft jersey with draping over the belly–perfect for the pear shaped woman. Who’s not actually pregnant.
Anyway my first thought was to say “Oh in three months” but then I decided to keep her on the hook “I’m not pregnant. This is my wine baby” was my oh so witty (yet secretly horrified) reply.
But here’s the kicker–she wasn’t even embarrassed. She went on to explain away her mistake by saying that she was confused as my upper part was “quite skinny but your belly is very big”. By this time I was looking for a metal nail file to stab her with. It couldn’t get much worse–you’d think that wouldn’t you–until she decided to give me some exercise advice. “Why don’t you go to the gym?”
I asked for a magazine to read. I’m considering going on yet another diet. I may burn my Trinny and Susannah approved dress. My toes, however, look phenomenal. Image