i couldn’t quite place the feeling. that kind of weighty emptiness that creeps in when everything on the surface seems fine. my to-do list was clear, my assignments finished early (for once), and I figured, why not? maybe what I needed was a little indulgence, a small luxury to remind myself that I exist outside of deadlines and responsibilities.
so, I walked into a nail salon, feeling hollow but hopeful, expecting nothing more than a fresh coat of polish. what I got instead was a conversation that felt like a warm embrace.
she was warm and kind, the nail technician who greeted me. We started with the usual small talk. my upcoming trip, the excuse for the pampering session. soon, the conversation deepened. she told me I had a nice smile, that I looked put together, and I laughed, saying I tried to maintain a positive attitude because I knew how much of a difference a little kindness could make in someone’s day. “you have a good heart,” she said. and wow, I needed to hear that.
she told me about her life, how she started her business with her sister, never looked back, and now had two sons she wouldn’t trade for the world. i told her i wanted to be a doctor, to help people, to make an impact. “your parents must be very proud,” she said. and without thinking, i responded, “i hope so.”
she caught that hesitation. “why do you say you hope so?”
and suddenly, there it was. the part of me I wasn’t sure I was ready to share. I told her about how I wasn’t out to my parents, how wearing nail polish might not be something they’d celebrate, how their love sometimes felt conditional, wrapped in tradition and expectations. she listened, really listened, and then she said something I’ll never forget.
“they love you, even if they don’t know how to show it yet. parents want to protect us, but sometimes they don’t realize that protecting us also means letting us be who we are. one day, they’ll come around.”
she told me about her own son, about the fears she once had for him, and how, over time, love won out over worry. and I sat there, letting her words settle, feeling seen in a way I hadn’t in a long time.
at one point, she noticed how every time she complimented me, I found a way to counter it with something negative. I brushed off praise like it was an inconvenience, deflecting the kind words with self-doubt. finally, she stopped, looked at me, and said:
“you’re beautiful, inside and out. And the only person who sees your flaws the way you do is you, because you’re the one looking for them.”
i don’t know what it was about her, but she reminded me of my mother. the kind of mother I needed in that moment. the open, accepting kind. the kind who sees you, even when you’re struggling to see yourself.
i walked into that salon hoping for a distraction. i walked out feeling lighter, reminded that sometimes, the universe puts people in your path exactly when you need them.
and maybe, just maybe, a little bit of nail polish can be the finishing touch on something much deeper than self-care. It can be a small, beautiful act of self-acceptance.
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