being a mom
Groundbreaking Study Discovers Gel Manicure Reduces Post-Manicure Profanity 100% For Mom Who Tried It
The majority of my identity is wrapped up in being a mom. I’m still a human and a woman and a wife and me, but everything I do is sort of tinged with “momness.” It’s just how my life is at present, and I’m cool with that. But I still like to do things just for me, that have nothing to do with anyone other than me, things I do not for my kids or employer (Hi Koa!) or my husband. And one of these things is getting my nails did on occasion. And because I recently had surgery I haven’t left the house in ages but my nails were starting to resemble scraggly witch claws so I decided to get a gel manicure.
Now, because I’ve been living under my mom-rock and spending the majority of my days napping and napping while trying to watch The Wire and napping while napping, I haven’t been hip to this crazy new beauty craze that has been around for ages now called a gel manicure. But I got one and it was awesome! I know I’m totally late to the gel manicure thing but as a busy mom it totally rocked my socks off.
Manicures are an indulgence and kinda pricey and I’m very impatient, so my jam was always to get it over with as fast as possible and leave the salon only to bash my hand against something and ruin my manicure three seconds after it was completed. But the cool thing about my fancy new manicure was that it was dry before I left the salon, so I totally didn’t drop ten f-bombs after having it done. The gel manicure has made me a much better person and a much better mother because my children didn’t have to hear me say “___duck ___” when I was done. And I’m told it can last up to two weeks, which would be awesome, because my usual salon manicures last about five days before they look junky again.
Now I’m wondering what other beauty treatments and products are out there that make other moms either save time, money, or use less profanity after getting them or purchasing them. Just because we are moms and totally part of the Frumpy Mom revolution doesn’t mean we can’t like nice things, dammit.