In Mourning

I'm constantly comparing my old life with the new one. Yesterday we did theory and practical on manicures. I keep thinking of the hundreds and hundreds of manicures I've had. Remember when the magazine reps use to take us to the Elizabeth Arden salon at Saks for lunch? We'd get manis and pedis and a "light ladies lunch." The best was at Jessica's Nail Clinic on Sunset in West Hollywood. The concierge at the Mondrian hooked me up with an appointment there one time, and then I'd make one for whenever I was in LA. Only place ever to be able to save a natural nail and make it look good. Along with good schools, gray flannel, straight hair and alcoholism, my WASP heritage came with weak nails that break all the time. Total opposite of my Italian family -- they actually have to cut their nails; a couple of times a week. Imagine! Anyway I keep remembering all those manicures and the life that went with them. I wonder if I can really keep at this beauty school thing. Then I have to tell myself that that life no longer exists for anyone. At least not for overweight fifty year olds who have priced themselves out. Today we'll be doing pedicures. There was this place on 73rd street that would do a reflexology pedicure that was heaven....