my chipped fingernails: an observation

i examined my nails. they were okay. just worn from where i hemmed them to rounded, if a little crooked edges. sometimes there would be a flat plateau where the nail clippers cleaved a line instead of rounding an edge. 

there were my lunulas. little moons. the one on my thumb was the biggest. it looked like a moonrise. i had five moons on each hand. a celestial body buried under chapped cuticles, chipping nail polish. i had painted my nails weeks ago.

 i used opi nail polish. i had coated each nail in three different polish. a pale blush base, then a shimmery overcoat, and then a dusting of glitter for the very top. it made my fingers twinkle whenever i waved them in the air. it distracted from the uneven cuts of my tips.

 sometimes i would paint them iridescent, other times very dark. i had a black/brown polish with no gloss. it swallowed all the light and gave length to my thin fingers. spider hands, i had. i didn't wear that color often because i chipped them too often and it left my nails looking cracked. a mosaic of pale skin peeking through shedding scales of black brown blue. 

 my nail polish is chipping. only flecks of pink and white and silver rather than the perfect little ovals from weeks ago. i might leave them bare this week, i think, as i pick them. just for variety's sake.