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Saturday, July 29

My Dirty Little Secret Addiction

I am always looking for the one product or process that will transform me into the beautiful creature I was 'sposed to be. And that, hons, is how I got addicted to manicures.

It started innocently enough as a special-occasion set of acrylic nails for my first really big horse show, The World Paint Show. I would be there in classes with top horses and I was nervous as a hen on a hot griddle, desperate for a confidence booster.

The truth was, I wasn't used to being out in with the big dogs and was having a hard time taking the advise of my peers. "Ride like you own the arena." Then it hit me: a set of awesomely long, cherry red nails would be just the ticket. I could hold the fakes around my reins and the judges would be so mesmerized by the sheer beauty of those puppies that they wouldn't notice if the horse missed a lead or broke his gait. They'd just say, "Dang, what big nails she has!"

I showed up at the nail salon a few minutes early, surprised to see four other women sitting on floral slipper chairs and discussing their weekly manicures. Like any good redneck, I always thought you only got fake nails if you was getting married that afternoon.

A couple of hours later, I left wearing my new, magnificent talons, the kind where you drum them on purpose just to hear their lovely click-click, like a poodle on Pergo.

The nails did their job. I sailed through those classes like a pro, athough I couldn't resist sort'a waving my fingers each time the judges looked at my horse. Even though my horse made plenty of mistakes it must have confused the judges, but who cared? The more confused they looked, the more I wiggled my fingers. I placed in several classes. I was sold.

The next few weeks, I realized I might have a problem. See, I'd never intended to keep going back to the nail salon but these beauties were as addictive as crack. Every time I sat in my slipper chair and presented my nails to Debra, I would try to form the words: "Just dissolve these and put some clear on my real nails" but instead, it came out as "Don't you think my pinkies could use some length?"

They say that Barbra Streisand is so nail-obsessed that she gets manicures twice a day. Hey, if you want to see somebody with a problem, look no further than Babs.

I mean it's not as if I can't quit anytime I want to. It's not like it's hurting anybody else, right? The more I think about it, it's not like I really have a problem. Maybe you all are the ones with the problem.

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