I "glitterally" can't take it anymore

When did I become a "nails" girl? But there I was...at the salon again with Sydney...agonizing over color selections. "I think this pale pink," I finally said. "You should get an accent nail, Mom," Sydney encouraged. I frowned. Bad enough that I was now a "nails" girl...did I want to take that slippery slope further and become an "accent nail" girl?

Suddenly I brightened. "Do you have black glitter polish?" I asked. The technician scowled and reminded me that it wasn't Halloween. I assured him that I knew it wasn't Halloween. "I'm making a spiteful statement," I declared. "Pink glitter would be pretty," he advised. I then realized that we were having an accent problem as we debated the color of my accent nail. "No," I tried again, "I'm attempting to be vengeful and petty. Pink is not vengeful and petty." I then launched into my story of the now infamous March war against my happy, bubbly, peppy, positive pal Erin...the spirited spring sheep to my grouchy lion. Erin's weapon of choice:  Glitter. According to Erin: Glitter makes EVERYTHING better. Let's see how she likes THIS, I thought vindictively. "Pink is pretty," my technician insisted.

Sydney sighed as I continued to fight my way through the language barrier. "Is spending thirty bucks on a black accent nail really worth all this trouble?" she asked as the technician and I wrestled for control of my ring finger. "Absolutely," I shouted as I threw a great-big-ol'-American fit in the nail salon. I finally got my way when my technician realized his tip was in jeopardy but I appreciated his dedication to the craft. He is, after all, an artist with a discerning eye of palette colors. And I'm a nail neanderthal who habitually wears black shoes with brown pants.  But the heart wants what the heart wants.

Disappointingly, Erin was delighted when I showed her my nails. "Ooooo, glitter!" she squealed happily. Clapping. Bouncing a bit. Ugh. Less than 24 hours later, she'd re-done her own nails in PINK GLITTER and immediately sent me a picture. Depressed, I texted Sydney and told her that I'd failed in my mission. "That's too bad," Sydney Lynn commiserated, "I would have thought you'd have totally nailed it this time."