I polished my nails today.
I didn't intend to. But when I got the nail polish out of the mega-sized beauty case (hauled out from under my bed - remnants of a past life when I wore make-up every day), and was painting it on the run I'd just noticed beginning in my tights; I thought "why not?"
The small boy was happily occupied building a block tower (and refusing to get dressed), so I had 5 blissful minutes of uninterrupted hedonism.
The nails are in quite good condition. Surprising for a mum with her hands in water for a big chunk of the day (washing: clothes, dishes, child, etc.); but I put it down to all the moisturizing lotion I rub into Mitchell's skin. Serendipity.
I only used the clear varnish - since that's what I had out.
But it has given me such a lift all day. I catch the shiny nails, reflecting the light, out of the corner of my eye, and think how nice they look.
And I really need to feel that something about me is attractive, right now. I feel rather subsumed in the 'Mitchell's Mum' persona. It's hard to be well-groomed while chasing round after a highly active 3-year-old.
Well, I find it hard. Super-mums seem to do it effortlessly!
Such a little thing to make such a difference.
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