No Not False Nails
I don’t do acrylics. Don’t do anything long or flashy. Just my own short nails, black on all of them. Sometimes, if I feel like it, the ring fingers get a pop of color. Just those two. Nothing loud. But it says enough.
I used to be scared to do even that. Painting my nails felt like asking for attention I didn’t want, the wrong kind. The “what are you trying to prove?” kind. The “that’s not what boys do” kind.
So I didn’t. I left my hands bare and acted like it didn’t matter. Like it wasn’t something I thought about every time I saw someone else pull it off without flinching.
I wanted it, so Now I do it.
But I wanted it. Always did.
And now I do it. Black polish on short, solid nails. Clean. Controlled. A little color, sometimes, just on the ring fingers because I can.
What did it cost to hide it?
Too many years of pretending I didn’t care.
What changed when I let it live?
Nothing dramatic. Just me, more me. More honest.
And that’s enough.
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