Sunday, 18 September 2011
I have a 88% seat rate.
This average would be higher if not for pregnant ladies,
Now please, please, please don't get me wrong , I love pregnant woman. I use to be in one. With the pain they are dealing with I'd let them have the carriage if it would make them a little more comfortable.
My problem with pregnant ladies is other peoples reactions. The slamming down of all heads as they enter the train really frustrates me.
More than not the two business men either side of me will suddenly become engrossed in the metros story about the tea drinking gorilla (on another note, if anyone knows where the gorillas china teaset is from, get in touch!)
The mens heads will stay down for so long that I am unable to wait for chivalry to kick in an offer my seat...and then of course glare intently at the gentlemen in question for the rest of my journey.
On this particular day while standing I noticed something.
I had nail polish on. Nail Polish!!
Now it might be bizarre to you that I noticed this. Surly I put it on , I choose the colour and rubbishly applied it. I'm not mental , I don't think nail trained monkeys applied it in the night. no, I was shocked because after 3 days....they were not chipped....!
It was a first. A big first and it's safe to say I got a little excited. especially while on the morning tube.
Now I'm aware that I'm at an age (25) where older people want to pat my head and younger people think i don't know the difference between a Biber and a beeper (kids still have beepers right?) but I've never had a feeling of being grown up and simultaneously child like. no chips!!!
I should explain why this matters so much to me.
When younger I had a irrational fear of nail polish. It was harsh, daring and I felt every eye judging my coloured nail.
In my teens, I progressed. I bought every colour i could get my un painted hands on. I didn't wear it, I was just fascinated by the lovely bottles full of grown up potential.
When forced (during a peer pressure filled sleepover's) I would allow it to dry only to instantly pick it all off with my teeth before someone would see.
(I wouldn't recommend this. )
By University I was an 'art student'.
No one starts off any different but as more and more people call you 'one of those art students' Its almost rude not to dye your hair white, make your own T-shirts and say 'Lol' out loud (that's a lie,i never sunk that low)
So in university I bite the bullet and started to wear colour. I started with neutral pearly colours and then slowly moved up until my hands weren't my own unless an Elmo red was glossing them.
My extraordinary discovery was that all the time I had spent biting off the polish was wasted because within an hour it would chip, fade and sometime smudge to cause my hands to look like an extra from a Tarantino movie.
So on the tube today, seeing my nails shining back at me after 3 days I was humbled and happy. It felt great.
Don't get me wrong, it means nothing in the scheme of things. If I had told it to the pregnant lady in front of me she would probably have whacked me with the business mans news paper, but in a small way it marked a big moment for me.*
I'm now a fake adult. ....slowly getting there.
In celebration I decided to push myself to do some writing and talk about my time in a new city, thoughts on being a 25 year old animator and my obsession with all things 1920's/30's/40's/50'soh and some early 60's. not that I'm fussy.
Thank you for reading, myself and my nails thank you.
* all of this excitement was dulled when I raced home to share my news to realize I'd already destroyed half of the polish...ah well 3 days is good enough for me.