When I lived with my parents, my mom didn’t like me to paint my nails inside because the smell bothered her allergies. (I also wasn’t allowed to put perfume on inside) Thus, I never painted my nails – partly out of laziness and partly because when I would get the urge to do it, the weather wouldn’t cooperate.
However, now that I’m living on my own and make my own rules, I paint my nails anytime I want. And lately, that has been a lot. It’s like I’m making up for lost time. With the exception of the past week or so, I always have some polish on and I’m usually changing it once a week. It’s gotten to the point where the ladies at work anticipate what color I’m wearing on Mondays and will even notice if I don’t have any on.
It’s become a slight addiction.
And addictions are expensive.
Within a short time, probably since January, my nail polish collection has grown from a measly one or two colors that I liked to having so many bottles that I’m contemplating building a shelf to display them on (mostly because it would make it so much easier to get to them).