Monday, October 10, 2011

the secret life of glitter

image via rayleah

This article is dedicated to my dear friend Mary, and her never-ending discovery of glitter in her house despite not owning anything with glitter on or in it.

I feel like I confuse a lot of people with my gender roles. I don’t mean that I’m gender-neutral, because I am very physically feminine and show that off more than some people are comfortable with (pants are not mandatory in fashion, darling). I mean that my interests are practically bipolar on the gender scale.

I love snakes. I still get visibly excited when presented with old-school Ninja Turtles and Power Rangers toys (ask my friend Ryan how high-pitched my voice got when he busted out the five original Rangers action figures MINT IN BOX). I still have all of my comic books and superhero trading cards (STAN LEE FANGIRL FOR LIFE). I love hockey, especially the fights. I shoot whiskey like it ain’t no thing. I can help butcher a deer without wincing, and catch crawfish with my bare hands. I laugh at fart jokes and make very inappropriate, non-lady-like comments.

I also love pink. It’s my favorite color, and if I could have hot pink hair, I would do a happy dance of happy like you would not BELIEVE. I played Barbies extensively, and collected them as well. I have more eye shadow shades in my current makeup collection than most women have in their lives. I enjoy running around in flouncy skirts and stilettos, I love getting laced into a corset, and I like to be considered pretty.

And I. Freaking. Love. Glitter.

Oh my God, you guys, glitter? Call me crazy, but I want to coat everything in glitter and just be perpetually blinded when the sun bounces of it every surface ever because it is so damn pretty.

Here’s the thing, though. Glitter is a PAIN. It is called the herpes of arts and crafts, because you can never get rid of it. Wear glitter eyeliner one day, wash it off. Or so you think. Next day, you’re outside, sun comes out, FLARE UP. Your boyfriend is now blinded by the light because you tried batting your eyes coquettishly at noon.

I am the happiest when I have glittery nail polish. Seriously, it can brighten my mood from a one to an eight. Not a ten, though, because it’s just my nails, ya’ll, let’s not be ridiculous. I seriously catch myself being distracted by my nails at work when I have glitter polish on. Type type type…type………type…………sparkly.

It’s borderline ridiculous. Much like my personality.

And I’m KNOWN for it. At my roommate’s birthday party, my friend came up to me, gave me a hug, then literally tore himself from my arms, looking down, horrified, and said “Did you get glitter on my suit?”

I wasn’t even WEARING glitter, and he expects to walk away looking like he got face-humped by a fairy.

And just to make this post useful to you, my readers...

The trick to getting glittery nail polish off, without just cutting off your fingers because WTF?GLITTER, is to soak the nails in acetone. Bad for your skin? Horrible. But you know what, it works quickly, and I’m not one to be patient. My trick is to take some acetone polish remover, soak cotton balls with it, slap them over my nails, then cover each fingertip with tin foil. Leave them like that for five minutes or so, then take them off, and wipe them clean with another remover-soaked cotton ball. Voila!


  1. I knew you'd appreciate it. I could've gone about ten more pages with my love of glitter, but I didn't want people thinking I was weird. Er.