"Nailed It"

Hey Connor, do you think I can get that back?

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Most of us ladies love the big three!

And for those of you who have no idea what the big three is, (MEN), IT'S THE ONE AND ONLY LOVE TRIANGLE OF SELF-CARE.

The big Three:

• Nails

• hair, and

• makeup!

That's right! Some of us ladies love the feeling of feeling glamourous, and despite what most men think, "No gentlemen, we DON'T do it for you. We're here to impress ourselves. You just benefit from the SLAY!"

Now I must admit, even though I appreciate the art of "The Big Three", and fully support my fellow sistas in arms who, not only creativity dominate this trifecta of slayage, but also make it look so damn easy, I have no choice but to confess that, I'm actually a part of the one percent of women who just...CAN'T.

the big three is just not for me.

But let me explain why I can't get in formation.

You see, you wouldn't believe the amount of stress and pain I go through on a bi-weekly basis just to detangle my hair... or wash it, or blow-dry it, or twist it, curl it, straighten it, braid it, bun it, ponytail it, finger coil it...oh, you get the point, (I threaten to cut it off EVERY. DAMN. DAY), and doing my MAKEUP, lawd, my eyeliner is so damn crooked that you would think I was drawing a map, (follow the yellow brick road, ya'll), and to make matters even worse, putting on eyeshadow or even something as simple as lipstick always seems to leave me looking like "IT", (just cast me in the sequel next to the sequel), and my nails, well, that's a story for another day...

...and today just so happens to be that day.

Now I understand that for some of ya'll, spring break has finally begun and you're probably somewhere right now in Miami playing beer pong on the beach, or doing some ungodly thangs on that same, 'said beach', (good for you), but for others, spring break has come to its dreadful end, and that means school is now officially back in session. And because of this reason, and at the exact same time of year during my own college days, ('x' number of years ago), some memories have, how do you say, resurfaced, and what I believed to be a nostalgic feeling has, in fact, revealed itself to be some pretty awkward moments instead. That's right, no nostalgia, just suppression of these embarrassing ass events, (lucky for you, huh?).

Damn the big three!

Kent Hall, 10:15 am.

Class: Conflict Management

It was the week after we had all returned back from spring break and, once again, I found myself sitting in my usual spot, right behind Elijah Ingram, who that day was sporting a gold durag and a white hoodie while his face was planted inside the palms of his hands, seemingly dreading the fact that, he too was, once again, right back in front of me, (I hear you, brotha. I was seconds away from skipping this class myself. I shook my magic eight ball six times before coming up in here, but the damn thing said, "my destiny awaits", so here I am behind you...awaiting).

But Elijah wasn't the only one with his head hanging low. Most of us, including myself, had arrived at least five to ten minutes early, which partially explained everyone's mood, and as much as we all thoroughly enjoyed this class, it didn't change the fact that we were still coming down from "spring break mode" , and right back in a classroom with a professor who, not only excessively used the phrase, "cash flow", but would still lock your ass out for being late, so showing up early was a requirement.

As I waited for class to begin, I thought now would be the perfect time to start plucking off my three-week-old acrylic nails that I got done just a week before spring break, (and they were fire too! I got the coffin shape joints coated in a bright and glossy sunset orange, and on each ring finger laid an orange swirl pattern so hypnotizing that if you stared at it long enough you would've ended up in the sunken place).

You see, I was prepared for my week of spring break excellence. I had plans, big plans, that consisted of me, my friends, crop tops, warm weather, and doing something ungodly on that same, 'said beach' that I mentioned before, while showing off these hypnotizing orange nails. But three weeks was long enough. The acrylic was starting to lift and the color was now losing its vibrancy, what stared off as sunset was now turning into sundown, these thangs had to go. And by the time our professor took her rightful place; in the front of the class, I had managed to remove three of my nails with seven more to go.

Kent Hall, 11:30 am.

Class: Conflict Management

With only fifteen minutes left before the end of class, I was now eight down, leaving my right thumb and left middle finger as the final two, (the shit was like a duel. Who'll be the first to die?).

As our professor continued to talk to us about reflective listening and the cons that came with unsolicited advice, I, however, continued to pluck at the nail on my middle finger and quickly switched hands after spotting the look on Connor's face who somehow got the impression that I was flicking him off, (I mean I was waving my middle finger around like a maniac, so I guess it makes sense, but mind your business!).

Frustrated that the nail on my middle finger just wouldn't seem to budge, I began digging at the nail on my thumb instead, and just before our professor decided to use the last fifteen minutes of class to huddle us all in for a four-person group assignment, off came the sunset orange nail that plagued my thumb moments before, and like the others, I discreetly tucked the acrylic in the pocket of my tote bag waiting to be discarded at the end of class.

Nine Down, One to Go.

My middle finger was the last man standing, and I feared with the class using its last few minutes to pair up in groups to discuss all the ways diverting a conversation back to oneself as a way to show "understanding" was the opposite of helpful, that I wouldn't get this last nail off by my next class, (I refuse to walk around this campus with one nail still attached! Do you know how that looks? Ridiculous, that's how!).

With the class pairing up in groups of four, I found my group, and while McKenzie and Kyle shared their take on "diverting conversations", I inattentively nodded my head while wrestling with my nail, using everything from the corner of my binder to the blank sheet of paper I intended to use for notes, (what the hell kind of glue did she use? Wasn't Elmers, that's for damn sure).

Five minutes left on the clock.

I was getting this damn nail off by any means necessary, and with McKenzie and Kyle still taking over the group's conversation, and with Elijah still face planted in the palms of his hands, I had all the time and privacy to continue to dig and scrape at this godforsaken sunset orange nail.

I grabbed my purple binder and using its rounded edges, I once again tried at a second attempt to remove this Hulk ass fingernail.

Tracing and slowly following the outline of the acrylic, I finally noticed a slight lift in pressure and became elated when I realized my finger was seconds away from freedom.

Come onnn, Come onn...

Ohh, damn!

"Hide your face, Simone. Hide your face", I mumbled to myself in complete embarrassment.

"Where did this come from?", shouted Connor who was sitting on the other side of the classroom in his whack ass group of four.

He was holding something in his hand, raising it in the air like he was Rafiki holding Simba.

"Put it down, fool", I thought to myself. "Please just put it down!"

"Guys! Where did this come from?..."Does this belong to anyone?". Connor, still holding it like it was a silver coin that he'd found in the caves of the Bermuda Triangle, was now showing the members of his group the fallen object that fell from the skies of our conflict management classroom.

And it you haven't guessed by now, Connor's buried treasure was indeed my

Gotdamn orange sunset nail

"Connor put it down!!", I screamed inside myself.

Yes, after tracing and outlining the root of my acrylic nail with the corners of my purple binder, my sunset orange nail catapulted across two groups, six desks, four heads, and landed right in front of Conner who treated it like both a show and tell presentation and a newborn baby bird.

"Eww, is that a nail?", said the white girl sitting beside Connor whose name I didn't know, (shut up, girl). "Throw it away, Connor, jeez", she continued with a disgusted look on her face. But Conner was determined to find the owner of this lost and lonely nail. Turning from his right to his left, from his front to his back, Conner asked damn near every woman six feet from him if they had lost their nail, (damn Connor, it's not a wallet! Leave it alone).

While Conner noticeably continued his investigation, I, on the other hand, continued to stay oblivious to the entire ordeal. As far as I was concerned, no one could dare trace this evidence back to me seeing as though the rest of my nails were tucked deep in the pockets of my tote bag.

Still holding onto the nail, I watched from a distance and saw Conner now flipping the sunset orange nail around and..."was he making it do tricks?"

Kent Hall, 11:45 am

Class: Conflict Management

Class was finally over, and as soon as our professor used the phrase, "cash flow", I knew right then it was time to gather up my belongings and jet to the door.

While everyone straightened their desks and chairs back in order and headed out towards their next class, Conner was slowly packing up his papers and shoving his folders inside his bookbag while still managing to be Sherlock Holmes, asking people once again if the mysterious nail belong to them as they headed for the door.

As I approached the side of where Conner was standing, he looked at me with bright eyes and I knew the question that he asked everyone else was slowly approaching the tip of his tongue. As Conner held out the sunset orange nail, he was shocked at the response in return.

"Hey, is this your nai-?"

I quickly retrieved my nail from the grasp of Connor's wet hand, snatching it from him like a woman scorned. Conner's eyes grew wide and I could tell that he was genuinely confused at what he'd done wrong.

As I turned towards the door grabbing the rest of my nails out of my tote bag and emptying them into the trash can, I had one more response to Conner before I left for good.

"By the way, Conner", I said antagonistically, "I was indeed sticking my middle finger up at you".

The nail was proof.

©2022, Arien Simone