So I am currently back to an old phase where I remember embracing nail polish like hungry monkeys craving for bananas. I endeared nail polish quite closely back in the first grade--back when I liked organizing Barbie and her friends' house furniture (not the dolls themselves) and Legos, and painting my nails. I liked color then and still float in a world of rainbows and colorful unicorns now. I remember forcing my mom to paint my dull looking nails into this Barbie pink color that I really liked wearing everyday, because I just never grew tired of it. It didn't make me feel like a princess, because I never actually wanted to be a real princess; but I liked it because color made me feel real happy and excited. But it all stopped one day randomly, when my grandpa started rushing me and telling me that he would throw all of the different shades of pink colored nail polish away if I didn't hurry up. So it was also then when I decided to stop wasting valuable time painting my nails, and start being on time for him. However, times are different now; I am going to try this once given up phase again for my own pleasure on my own time.

the life as a girl again,
jane