What? You Don't Like My Nails?

At the mall yesterday, my mom and I were approached by a young man selling spa products. He offered a daub of hand cream. Normally, I say no thank you and keep walking. But Ma stopped to try the cream.

The guy takes my hand and says, "Those are your natural nails?"

Obviously.

"You keep them short, right, because they're always in the sink, washing, too much trouble?"

Dude, I'm just here to see Santa.

Marley had asked to see "the real Santa." Otherwise I wouldn't go near a mall this time of year. So I wasn't in the mood to rip this guy a new one for assuming that because I'm a woman my hands are "always in the sink." Instead, I offered a lame shrug.

"Oh, but of course, you'd like to have beautiful nails, right? I have something right here..."

I said, "Honey, I really couldn't care less."

You'd think my makeupless face, raggy sweater and blatant lack of primping would have made that obvious. But, apparently, he doesn't meet a wide enough variety of women at the mall.

The guy stopped short at my statement, then shook his head in the funniest, most cartoon-like triple-take I've ever had the pleasure to incite. Ha ha. It made the whole exchange worthwhile.