Sometimes when I speak before large audiences, especially in the south, I think, “I should really get a manicure. I should really do my nails.”
I grew up with a mother who had a fresh manicure every week. She was actually a hand model in her younger years. A hand model! I come from beautiful hand genes!
But I simply detest having nail polish on my nails. I keep them short, unpolished, and boring. Too long, and they make annoying clicking sounds on the keyboard when I write. Too bright and shiny, and I have no choice but to start picking at them.
So no manicure for me.
I realize that my lack of nail polish represents something of a signature style. It’s a little act of differentiation, uniqueness, and personal preference that asserts my individuality. This is a good thing. I remember this when one daughter wants to wear the same leggings and t-shirt every single day or when the other daughter needs a little clutter to feel comfortable in her room.
Allowing–indeed celebrating–difference is part of motherhood, friendship, and personal growth.
When God knit me together, He knew I’d dislike nail polish even though I come from great nail genes. I’m OK with this, finally.
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What’s something that gives you your signature style that’s totally different from your mom?