My Hispanic Hands...

...this will be potentially the most racist post I will ever allow on my blog.

In my defense...the Asians started it.

I was preparing to go to Phoenix and participate in my friends' (Morgan and Dash) wedding and wanted to get my nails done because mine were looking a little lot bit heinous. And so I got a referral to a salon.

From a friend I no longer trust.

Now here's the reality.

I live in El Paso. 88ish % Hispanic. Now. In Phoenix, you would not go to a Hispanic salon to get your hair cut because you would come out looking like this:



But in El Paso, I have no choice but to have Hispanics do everything for me-they are literally everywhere.

No joke, I am exotic because I'm white.

Anytime I introduce myself to someone the reaction, literally every time is, "Ooooo!!! What a nice name, I've never heard it before! You won't find many Megan O'Connor's around here!"

So I figured, same thing for nail salons right?

WRONG!

I get down to this salon, it looks fine, the girls are nice, and 3 hours later I leave with chola nails.

A chola is a firme hyna (latina) that wears a lot of makeup: thick eyeliner, liquid eyeliner on top going out of your eye dark brown or red lipstick and eyebrows drawn on or really thin. We mostly have permed hair with hella gel or straight and arched on top. We kick it with people in our own barrio and not really claiming a color mainly your raza. (Brown Pride) or (Barrio)and wear baggy or tight cloths with nike cortez shoes.(source: Urban Dictionary)

I got in my car and thought ok, I have 3 choices.

1. I can get a serious tan and have my eyebrows tattooed on so I match my crazy-ass nails,

2. I can get them taken off,

3. I can cut my hands off and just be special.

So I drove from that salon to another salon and had them changed. But not before calling everyone I knew would laugh with me at my total misfortune and taking some (admittedly crappy) pictures on my phone.

And I went to a Vietnamese place in the mall.

As soon as I sat down and after the girl went "*audible gasp* oooohhh..." she says to me, "you got these in Mexico, huh."

Me: "The North East."

Her: "Yeah. Mexico."

Me: "Yeah..."

And I had them scrub my nails off and give me normal ones. Ones I could wear in my real life. Ones I could wear while meeting with lawyers the day after. Ones I could wear to my friends classy, lovely wedding.

Always go to the Asians. Always.

If I weren't concerned with the fact that I'm now Megan A. O'Connor, MACJ, professional, full time big kid, I would've definitely worn them to Morgan and Dash's wedding.

She would've laughed and loved them. And I wouldn't have been too embarrassed provided everyone got to talk to me and realize I am slightly intelligent despite what my hands look like.

I would've been the trashy chola bridesmaid. El Paso has not changed me that much.

Not yet.

But here are the pictures. There are so many things wrong with these nails that I just don't even know how to describe...they're so awful that I just...just...

...just enjoy!!

Not only are the tips clear (oh aren't you the girl with translucent nails?! Awesome!) There are wedding bells. To celebrate the occasion.


The flower is acrylic. It sits off the nail. Yeah...


The other side. Notice how every nail is different. Every single effing one.


And M heart D. Their initials were on my thumbnail!!!


And that my friends, is as close as I get to going native. And by native I mean full on gangsta, Juarez, should be embarrassed to walk about in civilized society.

Ah thank-you!