When I was 13, I had decided I had enough with my nubby nails. Nail biting is a trait passed down through my mother's side of the family, and I decided to copy another tradition my grandmother had started: acrylic manicures. Ever since I was young, I had admired her long french-tipped nails and the elegance they allowed her.

So, come eighth grade, I began a relationship with my nails that would proceed on and off until the summer before my sophomore year of college. My nails have not gone longer than a few days without looking flawless since.

Manicures have improved my life. I realize that statement may just be the most superficial statement ever, but let me explain myself.

In addition to having my first "full set" in middle school, I was also severely bullied. I was constantly made to feel ugly and lonely. Looking back now, I realize I was never ugly (just pubescent) and I was lonely because young people are mean. However, at the time I had my nails manicured when no one else did. I felt I had a slight advantage on them in that way, which gave me the self-confidence boost I truly needed.

Fast forward to junior year of high school. My nails had returned to their natural and bitten state. I had just visited my grandparents and my grandfather made a comment that has stuck with me to this day. He smacked my hand away from my mouth and said, "Do me a favor and stop biting your nails, it really takes away from your beauty." You bet that this was the kick in the ass I needed to get back in the nail salon and I still hear those words every time my nails get raggedy or I begin to bite them.

For the past year and a half I've had my nails meticulously manicured every two weeks, a decision which has left me not only with a quickly depleted paycheck but also has led me on a path of self-discovery: giving me community with strangers, a sense of elegance, self-confidence and, most importantly, forcing me to spend time on myself even when I was the last thing I had time for.