Sue’s Views: Come on baby light my fire

They say beauty is skin deep and you should look beyond the external.  All good and well when you are older, somewhat wiser and truth be told only too happy when another part of you has not drooped overnight.

Now false nails and I are not on the best of terms and to this day I cannot look at a set without curling my toes in embarrassment.

ALSO READ: Sue’s Views: Hip to be square

Peel back the years…I was a young 22-year-old completing my practicals on a magazine for a motoring organisation in Johannesburg.  Hip, happening and full of my own self-importance – aren’t we all at that age?

Carefully crafted kholed eyes and funky hair had me convinced I was beauty personified until a work colleague pointed out the state of my nails. Now despite my best intentions my nails would not grow strong and long, they were short and scraggly as I was a wee bit of a biter

So fortified with some extra money courtesy of the second pay check I set out to rectify the situation. Off to the beauty parlour for a full set of acrylic nails.  Oh Lord, they were beautiful and painted a bold red.  I couldn’t stop admiring my hands with these glamourous nails attached to my fingertips.

The next day I pitched up for work and had compliments showered upon my newly false fingertips, heady stuff I tell you.  Now it just so happened our boss was turning 50 and a surprise office party was planned for later that day.  It was all about subterfuge as we slunk around organising the event without him knowing.

At lunchtime, staff members were assembled in the canteen ready to serenade the old buzzard and spring the surprise birthday party on him. One bright spark decided it would be a good idea to have me bring in the birthday cake while they were serenading him.

Done deal.  So off I scuttled to the back, whipped out my lighter (yes, I’m a smoker) and lit the candles ….all 50 of them and proceeded back to the canteen with the cake.

The birthday song was in full tilt as I made my grand entrance and all eyes were on me, must be my sheer charisma I remember thinking until I noticed the singing had stopped midway and people were staring at the cake with horrified fascination.  It was then I felt the first searing pain rip through my fingertip on my right hand.  What the hell was going on?

In slow motion, the cake tilted to one side and slipped off the tray as the pain ripped through my right hand.  And there it was, a burning inferno, four glorious nails up in flames. Turns out when I had lit the candles I had also managed to ignite my nails. Right hand aflame I stumbled for the nearest water pitcher and plunged my hand in.

Red-faced with embarrassment I looked around at my colleagues who by now were avoiding eye contact with me and choking back their laughter. I have to give it to my boss though who with cool aplomb, nimbly stepped over what was left of his birthday cake, came over to me with my blackened stompies and said “Sue, you do realise you’ve added a whole new spin to ‘come on baby light my fire?”

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