This is a true story, as are all stories on The Lance.
It’s short, unsettling and involves my hapless sister PK and her flawless toe nails.
Over the summer, our favorite Bristol Palin lookalike began adhering fake toe nails to her piggies.
She was covert about her new weird beauty habit, choosing short white nails with french tips, which she refrained from revealing were artificial, until one day I said, “Jesus PK. Those nails looks so perfect they could almost be fake.”
She started giggling.
“That’s because they are fake. I got ’em from the Dollar Store,” she said.
“Well I’ll be damned,” I replied, half-disgusted and half-impressed with her ingenuity.
I’ve not seen her real toe nails since June. It would appear that the regime has (pardon the pun) stuck.
A couple weeks ago, she shared with me this story while we were heading to a chocolate festival in Tampa. (Yes, I said chocolate festival. I’m a pregnant chocoholic. My primal instincts kicked in.)
The story goes:
PK runs to the Dollar Store to pick up a new pack of falsies and a bottle of nail glue.
She returns to her apartment with the goods and begins her routine of replacing the old acrylics with the new acrylics.
She’s in a hurry.
To expedite the process, she decides to bite open the nail glue rather than fetch a pair of scissors.
With a firm grip on the cap, she begins to gnaw. At this point, she’s thinking it would have been easier to retrieve the scissors from the kitchen.
She gnaws too much.
She successfully loosens the plastic tip. In a matter of seconds, nail glue begins to ooze into her mouth. By the time she realizes the severity of the situation, it’s too late. Her lips are glued to the cap. Her tongue is glued to her teeth.
She lives alone so there’s no one around to a.) help her and b.) mock her.
“It tasted disgusting,” she said. “It took me like 30 minutes to pry my lips apart.”
“I hope it doesn’t interfere with the taste of the chocolate,” I said.
“I don’t know,” she muttered. “I’ve still got glue stuck to the back of my teeth.”
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