I assumed I’d be halfway to the altar by now. Guess what? I’m not even close. Perhaps it’s because I didn’t manifest my husband. Or pray for one.
As bummed as I should be, quarantine allowed me to toy with the idea of perpetual singleness.
It’s a mindset I thought I’d never have. One my ultra-conservative friends find depressing, but my feminist pals? They’re shelling hi-fives all around.
Pining for human connection during self-isolation isn’t uncommon. In fact, it’s understandable. Yet here I am, relishing the quiet that quarantine brings.
A few years ago, I was happily preparing to share every square inch of space with my ex. Now I squirm at the thought.
Perhaps it’s selfish.
Perhaps. But it’s simultaneously…liberating.
I interrogate my mirror, “Who are you and, what have you done with my Cinderalla bridal fantasies?”
Of course, she doesn’t respond, because the answer resides with my periwinkle nail polish.
I know what I’d look like on my wedding day.
My bouquet: gardenias tied with a blush bow.
My locs: secured with a pearl comb.
My toes: painted blue — periwinkle blue.
That’s right, my “something blue” would be my toes.
But there’s been a change of plans. Instead, I wear my blue toes every day. And here’s why.
Shortly after my last break up, I decided to pour the hours and time and affection that I so willingly gave to others back into myself. This redirected time wasn’t limited to romantic partnerships. I reclaimed time from my friends, relatives, community and social media platforms. All my hours became billable. Access to me was scarce and sacred.
One of the first things I did was get a pedicure every 6 weeks. Which was strange. If you want to know how to save more money, cutting back on “frivolous expenses” like salon appointments is the first step.
And I did. For years I was the architect of my at-home pedicures. I labeled nail shops a waste of money.
So, I purchased cheap lacquers and spent hours on Friday nights to have somewhat decent toes.
Except, they turned out hideous.
I sucked up my pride post-heartache and visited a nail salon to get a pedicure. This simple pleasure became a beloved ritual.
I’d plop on a black, comfy chair and request the wheel of endless color options. There were so many to choose from. For the first few months I opted for white.
Although beautiful against my ebony skin, the contrast was sometimes harsh and almost ashy. Then I switched it up. I went with a traditional pink. It was, eh, OH-KAY.
One evening whilst perusing the color palette, a pastel blue stuck out to me. “This would be a lovely color to wear on my wedding day. My something blue!” I thought.
That’s when I had my ah-ha! moment.
I didn’t have to wait till my wedding day to paint my nails pastel blue. What if that day never happens? What if it wasn’t meant to be mine? Would I go my entire life depriving myself of sky varnished toes all in the name of bridal tropes?
I shoved the color wheel in my beautician’s face like I’d discovered a map to the fountain of youth.
“This one!” I squealed.
She peeked around the wheel, winked at me, then said, “it’s a beautiful color.”
It truly is a beautiful color.
My periwinkle toes break the ice when I wear open-toe sandals in public. I’m complimented daily because the pigment compliments my skin. But most importantly, my pastel toes make me feel feminine and confident. Even without external validation, I know what my periwinkle toes do for my feminine aura. I love how they reflect my personality.
I am grateful I didn’t wait for my wedding day — when no one but my photographer would notice anyway — to wear my something blue.
And that’s how I feel we should treat all the moments we delay because we’re waiting for the right time. Tomorrow is not promised.
Live every day like it is your last day on earth. Do things that not only make you feel good but ARE good.
Buy yourself flowers. Exercise. Drink a glass of red wine. Paint your toes blue.
Or every color of the damn rainbow.
You, dear friend, deserve to.