Neon Pink Nails

Oh my ghetto fabulousness.  In a spur of the moment decision this evening, I pulled into a Robertson nail parlor on my way home.  It was late, I was sick of the traffic, and somehow my car just veered to the right and parked itself.  Badda-bing, badda-boom, the next thing I knew I was plopped in a seat getting my nails done.  By an Asian man.  Who was probably 20.  And built like a football player.  And that’s not even the strange part…

The last time I had my nails painted was the weekend I got married.  I am not a painted nails kind of gal.  Toenails, yes – love it.  Fingernails, not so much – with my lifestyle the paint is chipped in less than a day and then I spend a month looking like a homeless, goth teenager until I finally get out a cotton swab and take the last flakes off.  It’s beyond tacky.  So today when I found myself getting not just my toes, but my fingernails painted as well, I couldn’t believe it.  And neon pink?  Not red.  Not pink.  But a color so bright I can still see it when I turn off the lights.  Who am I?

I feel like that chic from Jersey Shore, but I’m digging it.  I think this might be my new thing – the girl who dresses in monochromatic neutrals, but who has ghetto-booty-shaking nails.