If you know me at all, you know that I unashamedly love painting my nails. Probably to a fault. So when I paint my nails I expect them to be well done and keep up the facade that I am not, in fact, a hot mess. Unfortunately, due to a reluctance on my part to research quality polish (polish, not Polish, as I’m sure there are many quality Polish), I am now stuck with a top coat that does not protect against chipping (and if you’re reading this thinking, “What, pray tell, is top coat?” I will assume you are a man and A. cannot empathize with the above situation, or B. a very confident man who has familiarized himself with Essie and OPI in order to compliment and pick up girls).
Woe is me. I should probably start wearing little paper bags over my fingers so the children don’t point and laugh.
Unfortunately, being in your early twenties suddenly presents a whole host of disasters, nail chipping among them. Here are just a few other things throwing curve balls at me the size of that boulder from Indiana Jones.
- Where the heck am I supposed to meet guys now? At a bar? At the mall? When I strategically drop my library books? I don’t even use the library, so that eliminates one third of my options. In college, I was surrounded by literally hundreds of young and single men. And my question is, how the heck did I not find one when I was essentially drowning in the dating pool? I mean, it was get-your-swimsuit-pick-the-perfect-lounge-chair-liberally-apply-sunscreen pool side status. Now I am forced to leave my house and sit in a public area in the hopes some man will notice how cool my leather jacket is and strike up a conversation. And on the off chance that he’s single, attractive, and loves Jesus, he still has to accept the fact that my second favorite movie is Titanic.
- I am now obligated look at every guy’s ring finger. How is it possible that I am at that age where potential mates might be married? How is that even fair? I do not miss much about high school, but knowing my classmates were not eternally committed to each other (although there were those unfortunate few who probably thought they were based on all those romantic times spent kissing by the lockers) was reassuring. I could take comfort in the fact that there was still a possibility I could be with that person. Now, thanks to age and the invention of Pintrest wedding boards, the amount of permanently spoken-for men seems to be skyrocketing.
- I no longer have access to the school fitness center. Does Post Grad Life expect me to pay for a gym membership? I will admit that I have always wanted to be a Zumba regular. But why would I pay $20 for a class when I can dance for free in my driveway? And take thrifty runs in the pouring rain?
- Formerly necessary purchases suddenly seem unnecessary. This is a disaster for two reasons: 1.) This is an indication that my checking account is looking a little low, and 2.) it means things like shaving cream and hairspray don’t seem like such a big deal anymore. Why, why is no one approaching me to compliment my leather jacket?
- My friends are not on the same schedule as me. A mere month ago we would all go to class till 4:00 PM and then have the weekends free to complain about homework and find cheap drinks. Now my roommates work on Saturdays and go grocery shopping during normal business hours and watch Game of Thrones. Luckily, there is one advantage to living in Spokane: the weather. This works in my favor when eventually everyone converges in the kitchen at the end of the day because the rain makes us hermits.
And now I’m watching Bridezillas. Talk about a disaster.
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