As seen in this picture taken a few weeks back, Mack and I got our nails done while our friend was in town. There was a reason behind it (our friend and I wanted pedicures, and Mack didn’t particularly want to clean his dead skin off his feet— voila!). Anyway, that was about oh, say, over a month ago. Now, slowly and surely, as the nails have grown, the paint has chipped away, to a degree, but still managed to hang on for its dear life. Mack has been thoroughly embarrassed about wearing flip-flops, or any open toe footwear, in public  seeing as his skulls-and-crossbones didn’t make him look bad ass enough. Or something. Today, however, was the day that we were going to get them off for good.

I think, in reflection, they probably use a base coat of something permanent like cement to make sure the damn nail polish stayed on and was almost impossible to remove. It’s an excellent marketing strategy, if you think about it: make it impossible for the average consumer to get the nail polish off, and they’ll have to come back to have it removed and BAM, another sale.

Before I packed away the nail polish remover, I made Mack come sit down on the floor in our bedroom, with a magazine (to give the remover stability), some Q-tips to scrub, and a towel in case we spilled (which I did at the end when cleaning up) and something to put our feet on. Mack and I started scrubbing gently at our own nails with me secretly gloating that I had more of my nail polish chipped away then him. However, it soon became apparent that the nail polish was made of tougher stuff and we switched, working on each other’s nails while sniffing the sweet, sweet smell of nail polish remover. 

Halfway through the job I noticed something: Mack practically had talons. I think the last time we had his nails clipped was when we got our pretty, pretty toes. I think it goes to show how much I love my man in that I willingly clipped his toe nails. I hate clipping my own nails so there, my friends, is true love and devotion. 

With shorter nails and twenty Q-tips fewer, Mack and I are polish free. Is it bad that immediately after getting all the polish off I wanted to paint my nails again? Vanity, you make me weak with my need to have pretty, pretty toes. Like a princess.