Going To Gel.

Last night, I went to gel.  Unlike Teen Mom‘s Amber Portwood, the “gel” I’m referring to is a type of super fancy Santa Monica manicure and not actual “jail.”  (FYI: I know this is a gag that approximately no one will understand because most, if not all, grown people have no idea that Amber spent three seasons of that show nervous about being sent to “gel.”  However, I think it is a supremely genius play on words and it pleases me.  It stays!)

Gel manicures are supposedly the middle child of the fingernail polish family: they last weeks longer than the regular stuff, but aren’t as harsh or tragic on your fingertips as acrylics.  I literally just learned that on the internet because I had my first professional manicure at age 19 under the peer pressure of a college dorm friend – and I was horrified that I paid $8 for a stranger to paint my nails.  I am not a manicure specialist.  I am, however, blessed with a wonderful, generous, manicure specialist friend who offered to pay for my trip to “gel,” and because I am so not above taking beauty charity, I am now the proud owner of a set of ten chip-resistant talons.  And I love them.  (Thank you, J!  They are gorgeous.)

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Cute, no?  Before you get too excited about having your own three-week manicure, I must advise you that there are health risks.  According to Dr. Oz, risks include allergic reactions, infections and even cancer (because they require the use of UV light to set).  I’m sure these are real risks.  I would never suggest you run out, against a doctor’s orders, and do something completely unsafe.  I’ve lived my entire not doing fun stuff in order to avoid the risks.  However, in the interest of full disclosure, in the same episode Dr. Oz tells women of the world to be weary of gel manicures, he also tells them they can use their dreams to lose weight, so you know.  Grain of salt.

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