I have a confession to make.  For a few who (perhaps) read this, they will already know this strange secret of mine and it will be no confession.  It’s not that I’ve tried to keep it a secret, really.  It’s just that this all took place in such a weird, encapsulated period of my life and it’s like some strange time warp thinking about it.  So, here goes …

I used to wear glitter.

No big deal, right?  I mean, glitter’s back with a vengeance these days anyway.  No, no.  Do not be mistaken, please.  Let me reassure you- I. Used. To. Wear. Gliiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiteeeeeeeeeerrrrrrrrrrr.

Ok, ok.  Take yourself back to 2001 with me for a minute here.  You know, N’Sync and butterfly clips and boob tube tops underneath overalls?  You get the picture.  As you remember, glitter was a pretty common thing at that point (and I’m just going to mention *True Colors* and hope that rings a shimmery, shiny bell for some of you).  But just so you know, I am not talking, like, a little glitter in the lip gloss as was the thing back then.  I am not even talking a little strawberry-scented roll-on glitter on the cheeks as was so very common.  I am talking … well … let me put it in anecdotal form:  Every morning, from about seventh through eighth grade and then some, I’d cover my eyelids in glitter.  Thick, hexagonal glitter.  It might be blue.  It might be red.  It might be God-knows-what color, but whatever it was, it was slap-you-silly-with-a-ray-of-sunshine BRIGHT.  And it would frequently go all the way up to my eyebrows.  And then came the hair.  I had glitter gel.  Yes, repeat that- glitter. gel.  And I’d slick that stuff in my hair like it was 1985.  Did they use glitter gel in 1985?  Anyways, the final touch- I’d drag my mom out on to our driveway and I’d have her spray me down with the spray glitter used at dance and cheer competitions.  From top to bottom.  I’d throw on a sequined shirt with my glitter-coated jeans and I was good to GO.  Now, was I going to a cheer competition?  Nope.  Dance competition?  Nope.  I was going to middle school to pick my nose and learn things.  But I definitely looked like a walking galactic nebula while doing it.

This all stopped freshmen year when I realized that I’d pretty much alienated all my loved ones because my glitter addiction gave off that certain stench of weird.  I normaled up, and now I’m me!

What’s extra funny about this whole thing, though, is the fact that there is literally no primary documentation of these happenings.  None whatsoever.  There are no pictures that I can locate that properly do justice, and I even threw away all the glitter (and you wouldn’t believe how much there was … there are still traces of it in my bedroom and bathroom a decade later).  It’s sad, I haven’t got a single snapshot to show you what it was like to be somewhat of a drag queen in junior high.  So you’ll just have to believe me.

But we come to today, and as you can see I still have a rather soft spot for glitter.  There were a good couple years where I detested the stuff, but I’ve realized that my glitter phase was the true beginning of my love for all that is makeup.  I even did a presentation on my love for makeup in eighth grade language arts (complete with torn-out magazine pages of makeup looks I’d liked … boy was that telling), and I’ll always remember my teacher complimenting me on how comfortable and knowledgeable I was with the subject.  It’s truly one of my first loves.  So here we have my present-day nails, painted not but a few hours ago, in The Living Daylights from OPI’s latest fabulous collection inspired by the James Bond films.  I know it’s a manicure quite fit for the ushering-in of December, but I have to say that I don’t think I’ve ever stared at my nails with so much love as I have these past few hours.  It takes me back and hits me right in the sparkly feels.  xo, MR