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The Bang Bang Theories

Moody Blues: Trial & Era Part II

I’m not normally one to shy away from a little light experimentation, Reader. I mean, I’ve been known to dabble. In beauty products, sheesh, Reader.


Anyway. My last trip to the nail salon presented an opportunity for experimentation that didn’t come with a lot of collateral – and zero nakedness.  Worse case, I’d pay $35 for a color I wasn’t in love with, but would be replaced within two weeks or so.  No big deal.

While I was picking out my flavor of the day, the very young – very. young – Asian employee suggested I take a look at the brand new “color changing” shellac. Intrigued, I picked up a few colors and she encouraged me to “try. it’s fun. it change with your mood.”

I was a little skeptical about it – did I mention the girl referring it was young?? Was I trying to recapture my youth through a bottle of nail polish? I mean, is there even an age range on nail polish selections or is this an “anything goes” area?  I just don’t know. I still don’t know. I’ve worn glittery polish. Darks. Neons. Chatons. I never really questioned my selections until mood-changing polish came up.

Of course I had to give this a try, despite my skepticism. I mean, how could I not try mood-changing nail polish, Reader? I couldn’t NOT try it. But I was going on a business trip and so I needed something that said, “Fun! But not crazy.”

I decided on a very pale blue, almost a light grey or white according to the little swatch on the side of the bottle. I considered it the new neutral; mood-changing blue is the new gray.

Now, what I hadn’t counted on when choosing “mood changing” nail polish, was the possibility of my having two different colors on each hand.

Share File-1Because apparently my moods can have split personality and it shows up on my fingertips.


One side of me can be dark and murky while at the very same time part of me is lighter and more creamy.

And then something happened, Reader.

Something I’m not really proud of, but I’ve decided to own it anyway.

I found myself getting annoyed at my nail polish.

I mean, this nail polish barely KNEW me and it was changing colors according to whatever it assumed my moods were.

Isn’t that just a bit presumptuous Reader? That a polish – that is on your fingertips less than 24 hours – thinks it knows you?? And can’t even decide on a mood, so it splits the difference between hands? And then sometimes the color was different on different fingers of the same hand! I mean, what does that even mean about me, Reader?


I just found it all to be a little forward. And it made me look deep inside myself and question my being. I don’t need nail polish being that much of a boss of me. Or do I??

By the end of our two weeks together, I was sort of sad to see it go, because by then I felt it had really started to understand me a little. When I was warm and cozy? It was deep.  A cool shower to fend off the summer heat? The whiter side of pale. We had really started to understand each other by the end of our relationship.

So what I’ve learned here is this:

#1/ When taking beauty advice, perhaps I should listen to someone from my same decade.

#2/ Given enough time, even a nail polish can understand me better than most of my lovahs. Because I felt it really did try to “get” me, hence it’s almost constant state of confusion.

#3/ Sometimes rocky relationships just need a little time to work themselves out.

#4/ No amount of hand cream has kept these meathooks looking youthful and supple. Thanks for nothing, All The Hand Creams in the World.

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