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Showing Off My Nail Polish & Admitting I Was Wrong

Elizabeth Buechele · July 28, 2021

Showing Off My Nail Polish & Admitting I Was Wrong

We are standing in the bathroom, brushing our teeth and discussing the strange stain on the white soap dispenser.

“I don’t know,” I tell him. “It’s some weird red thing. All I know is it definitely wasn’t like that when I left this morning.”

I wasn’t that concerned about it. It was just a talking point. But now he seems to think it’s my mess. And I’m absolutely sure it is not. And this is a hill I’m suddenly prepared to die on. All I really know is it’s red and weird and definitely was not there this morning. He turns on the light.

“It’s not red. Look, it’s purple.”

“It’s not purple; I literally—” Oh. It’s purple. “What could possibly be purple?”

Then I remember my morning. I was on my way to give a presentation about The Smile Project, wearing a blue and white dress and brown open-toed sandals. While brushing my teeth, I noticed my chipped purple nail polished toes. So I grabbed my purple polish, filled in the patches, and was out the door.

Oh no.

It’s my mess. I step closer to the sink, tucking my bare feet under the counter. I rush to the bedroom determined to hide my toes under a blanket before he can put two and two together.

I prop myself up with my pillow and grab my book, feeling perfectly satisfied that I had gotten away with it. I wouldn’t have to admit I was wrong!

A voice tickles in my ear: But what if you did?

I know it’s just nail polish. I know it doesn’t matter that much. I know I can clean it off in the morning. I know he does not care at all.

But I’m proud and I’m stubborn and I don’t want to admit that I am wrong.

But what if I do?

He walks in.

“I have to tell you something.”

He waits.

I snake my leg from under the covers.

“I have purple nail polish.”

And there is laughter.

I tell him I rushed to bed to cover the evidence.

More laughter. Joy.

Maybe some arguments aren’t worth winning.

Or maybe, by letting go of my pride and stubbornness, I did win after all. Maybe, the real victor is the one who gets to end an evening in laughter and love.

Love always,

Liz