And The Band Played On

Welcome to day 28 of 30 Days of Writing, a creative writing challenge that proves I really can’t function without my meds.  Our prompt today is “The turning point”. Don’t forget to link up at the end of this post if you’ve participated in today’s challenge.

And The Band Played On

will power in a bottleGrowing up, I was a chronic nail-biter. My parents tried everything to get me to stop. My mom would paint my stubs with pale pink nail polish, hoping the pretty colour would dissuade me. It didn’t.

Then they bought some of that Stop n’Grow stuff. It’s a clear nail polish that tastes nasty. Thirty-five years later, just thinking about it brings back that bitter, vile flavour. That’s how bad it was.

But it still didn’t work.

So, my mom would walk around whacking my hand every time it wandered even remotely near my mouth. Family dinners became quite painful. The backs of my hands were pretty red after just a few days.

And it still didn’t work.

As a teen, I tried fake nails. The problem was, being that I did not engage in many lady-like behaviours, they would break or fall off within days. Once they did, the nail that had only begun to start growing underneath didn’t stand a chance.

My parents gave up.

The turning point came after my divorce. I had a baby and a toddler, a full-time job and I went to college in the evenings. It would be safe to say I was a little stressed at the time.

A girlfriend and I went out dancing one weekend, and the band that played was amazing. And really, really cute. Especially, the bassist. Patrice.

Hmmmm. Patrice. He was more than cute. He was yummy.

My friend and I became groupies. They played one club in particular on a very regular basis and guaranteed, we were there those nights. We would also check out the band’s website to see where else they were playing and off we would go.

I still remember driving about an hour out of town to see them play. It was a Monday night, I’d worked all day and had a class that night. We got home at 4 in the morning and I got up to go to work at 5.

Ah, to be young and foolish!

In any case, at some point while we were following them all over the province, my friend got to know one of the band members. And I started to realize that I would probably end up meeting Patrice eventually.

That’s pretty much when panic set in. Although it had never bothered me before, I couldn’t possibly shake his hand with my nasty little stubs! He was yummy!! So, I bought enough acrylic nails to feed an army (what?), and extra glue. I did my nails and kept spares in my purse, in my car, at work… basically, everywhere.

It worked! I was constantly re-gluing nails on, but I wasn’t biting my nails anymore.

And then the day arrived. We were at the club when Patrice came over with the other band member. We were introduced. I believe I may have gotten my name wrong. We shook hands. My nails were long and pretty. He smiled. I stared dumbly at my feet. He asked a question. I think I managed a one-word answer.

He left pretty quickly. The fingernails stuck around, though.

left hand, blue nail polish



Now go. Don’t turn your back on the amazingly talented and forgiving bloggers who have linked-up below. If they’ve made it to this point, tell them I love them and give them 1,000 points just for being them.

Related Posts



  • RSS Feed
  • Twitter
  • Facebook
  • Pinterest