Like most of you, I love arts and crafts. In elementary school, I was boss at gluing pieces of paper to other pieces of paper and making beautiful, mainly abstract pictures. Now, I’m semi decent at painting canvases, and really, really good at paying other people to glue fake fingernails onto my hands. I spend an obnoxious amount of time and money on nail art, and I love it. I’m obsessed. At the end of the day, my face and body will never look like a Jenner. But give me an hour and a nail studio, and my hand could almost resemble Kendall’s ugly cousin. #WorthIt.
However, one thing is keeping me from always showing off my beautiful long coffin nails: my sexuality. Every time I commit to acrylics, I commit to at least two weeks of abstaining from hooking up with girls. My two worlds are pulling me apart. It is true what they say. It’s the ones you love that hurt you the most. My Pinteresty AF habits are single-handedly (lol) destroying my hope of finding a girlfriend.
It’s times like this that I curse our sexual education program. No one fucking warned me that in order to be happy with my sex life, I would have to live with peasant hands. Sure, I could always keep them short, neat and polished, but really what’s the point? A manicure without acrylics is like getting your hair cut without getting it styled. It gets the job done, but you feel cheated. And truthfully, you spent too much money not to walk away feeling better than everyone else.
Long nails fit my personal brand, just like being a bitch to most people I meet, and pretending I regularly attend pilates. I feel like I’m constantly playing a tug of war with what I truly want in life. And while I get a little sick when I look a penis dead in the eye, I also get a little sick when I look at my sad, man hands. But ultimately, I fear I’m too narcissistic not to look my best. It’s like giving me the choice to always have perfectly clear skin or perfectly clear thoughts, I’m picking looks every time.
What’s worse is the gatekeeping from other girls. Nothing stings more than meeting a girl, developing a crush, and then being rejected because of my nails. I have been accused countless times of “not really being bisexual” because of it. I’m really by bisexual, I’m just also an asshole, and I care more about my own appearance than the safety of another girl’s vagina.
In short, I blame the Kardashians entirely. If they hadn’t romanticized long nails, maybe I would be happier. If Khloé K would stop showing off nails pointy enough to slice skin, if Kylie would stop fucking bedazzling her hands, maybe I would be okay with a simple gel manicure. But, truthfully, that’s like asking the world to make dirty hair the new standard of beauty. I can keep praying, but it’s never going to happen. Until then, I guess I’ll have to just keep fantasizing about Mila Kunis while guys keep rubbing the spot my clit isn’t at..