I recently read an article on Huffington Post that I was inspired by. The article was titled “Painting My Nails Kept Me Sane Through College” and immediately resonated with me. Most people who know me relatively well know that I have what may be classified as a nail polish obsession. I love indie polishes, made by small but reputable companies around the world, and buy a couple new bottles of polish bimonthly, much to my parents’ dismay. “But what do you do with all that polish?!” you might ask. I paint my nails every other day, using a miraculous invention–peel off base coat–to remove my polish quickly and easily.
For me however, painting my nails is not just about the color, though it does plays a part. Painting my nails is calming and therapeutic. I can precisely control what color my nails are, how neat the cuticle line is. It’s a repetitive and satisfying motion. In a university where stress is the norm, anything that can help relieve that is something precious. My personal form of therapy is worth it though, when the girl who sits next to me in class or the person at the mailroom compliments my nails. It validates what I’m doing as something more, an accessory to my look. When everyone else has nails bitten down due to stress, mine stand out, long and neat painted with beautiful, unique colors.
Nail polish is part of my identity. It’s like makeup or fashion in that it’s representative of who you are, of what you like, and what your style is. It is something soothing and relaxing, helping me destress after a long day of work and classes. And that to me, regardless of any judgement I get for the amount of polish I have or how frequently I change them, is something that no one can take away from me.