In my head

How can a trip to the nail salon remind one of HIV related stigma, you ask?

Like this …

Lemme get a refill, pedicure, and a nail repair.

O yea and my eyebrows done. But can y’all not do them too thin?

I’m not trying to have to draw them jawns back on, (like you).

But anyways, it was pretty busy in there this particular weekend.

So I waited a little while and talked A LOT to the women in the waiting area.

It was one woman that I started telling about Healing Is Voluntary.

She seemed nice.

She seemed open minded.

In the middle of our small talk, a chair finally opened up.

And this thin lady, with thinner eyebrows motioned me over.

Something told me to refuse her service and wait on someone else to free up.

But they was busy. And I had shit to do.

It was weird though.

It took this lady a while to do my feet …

… and even longer to file the polish off from my last fill-in.

What is you doing lady?!?

Now, it’s time to fix this pinky nail.

I figure, she’s going to take one of those tips and lift the acrylic off of my own nail.

I’ve had it done successfully before.

But this time, the acrylic wasn’t budging.

I pulled my hand back from her because it was starting to hurt.

But my dumb ass gave it back.

So the next time, the lady goes in real quick with the tip of the false nail.

As she snatches the acrylic,

this happens:

Tip: Listen to your instinct. Smh.

So now, I’m sitting in this shop with the meat of my nail exposed; internally freaking out because only me and that other lady know I got HIV.

And if them other people find out, they would probably freak the fuck out, too, because I just got done getting a pedicure and everything.

And they be using the same wax for my eyebrows that they use for theirs.

The other patrons are going to force them to throw all of their instruments away because there is not enough:

of that blue liquid solution


time on that sanitizing machine

to dissolve the fact that my HIV positive self had the audacity to taint the nailery that day.

But guess what?

No one was exposed to HIV that day.

Them people wasn’t even thinking about me.

I ain’t dripping in no blood. The tech had on gloves. I’m undetectable.

Nobody was having intercourse with my pinky.

Blah, blah, blah.


I was the one putting myself through it.

I’m usually the one putting myself through it, though.

What not to do: Don’t go to the lady at table number 3. She wild.

Shoot, y’all probably said to yourself that I should stop getting my nails done, periodt.

Y’all right.

I like full sets, I got a fuc’n problem.

+ Ci Ci +