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May 12, 2020
‘That colour suits you,’ she said as she blew on them again and the nails dried.
I dislike my hands. They are too large and bony, unable to be fixed and difficult to hide. They broadcast natures devious tricks and deceptions. The best I can do is to not draw attention to them but looking after the nails is necessary. The demure pink seemed obscene but unadorned my hands could belong to a labourer or manual worker. At least now they blended with the overall pastel camouflage. Hair and nails for women, shoes for men were the measure of quality.