E tenebras, lux dormiens

I remember a time I used to paint my fingernails, oddly enough. It was ridiculous, but I think I know how that could have turned about.

I don't remember what age it was, but Elizabeth, a girl at my old preschool, had painted her fingernails and I got jealous. I wanted to copy her. Her mother babysat me.

When I got back home, I begged to have my fingernails painted. She said that I was not a girl, but after pressing her, she relented.

What happened? School happened. Although I was delighted to have my fingernails painted, I discovered to my shock, horror, and shame that boys don't paint their fingernails and I felt left out.

So by that night, I wanted to get rid of my fingernail paints as quickly as possible and sought to forget that moment of embarrassment as quickly as possible.

I didn't, obviously. And now I look at this as one of the many clues that pointed the way to who I am now.