OK. This story is a little embarrassing because it's just so darn personal. But, dear readers, I am willing to humiliate myself for your amusement because I'm just that kind of girl. Here goes:

I bite my nails (no, that's not the embarrassing part). I tend to nibble them when I'm pondering an existential dilemma and since that's most of the time, my fingers are basically ten little stubbins (shut the hell up, spell check: I know that's not a word.)

Most of the time I really like my hands. But every once in a while. . .

I decide that what I really need to be completely and thoroughly happy with my life is French-manicured acrylics. I've had acrylics on and off for about fifteen years and they never posed a problem...until I signed up for lesbian life. Actually, according to my girlfriend at the time, only one of those French-tipped nails posed a problem. The solution seemed obvious. I'd go back to the nail salon and ask them to cut down that single nail.

"But what are you gonna tell them?" my girlfriend wanted to know. "They're going to want to know why you want just one nail cut off."

We decided that I'd tell them I play the violin and the nail is simply getting in the way. (It never actually occurred to me that maybe I didn't owe Ming the nail technician an explanation. I am the queen of the blathering confession and I am forever giving people more information than they need or deserve.)

The big problem is, I don't know how to play the violin. And I'm a horrible liar. The night before my appointment I was convinced that after Ming cut off the offending nail, she would present me with a violin and demand that I play. And what kind of violinist uses only one finger? Jesus. What was I thinking? Ming will take one look at me and know all the private details about my sex life.

I walked into the nail salon, cheeks flushed and stammering. I approached Ming's station, extended my finger and asked her to cut the nail down. She pulled out her clippers and snapped it off. No questions asked and no charge. My girlfriend was waiting for me in her pickup truck.

"So?" she asked.

I showed her the shortened nail. She smiled approvingly. "Sweet."

My girlfriend and I broke up a few months later (actually, we broke up five times before our final farewell, but that's a story for another time). I wish I could say I eventually learned to play the violin because wouldn't that be a great way to end my story, but all I really did was have my French-tipped acrylics removed. Ming never did ask me if I had that one nail removed so I could have sex with my girlfriend.

But I knew she was thinking it.