Finally, my hands. Let us be very clear that this is only my left hand.
Because good. I do not show, but then my right hand I never shown it to anybody.
Judie told me that she sees no difference between both of my hands, but it’s the view of love.
I know the difference between them. My right hand is thicker, stronger, my fingers are a little twisted writing, I have a scar on the finger .But my left hand, which did not give a damn one, it is almost presentable.
I was shooting on a Thursday (which I modeled again, I tell you this time come on, I know my model, where is the fashion? Where is the world? When will the Elite agency to contact me?)
Well, so I was on a shoot and manicure grabs my hands, and I make him promise not to polish my nails that do not support it at all: they split, break, and fall into ruin. You see my problem is that I am the descendant of a royal family striated. But if, streaks, you know, those lines that make it look filthy fingernails of corrugated iron? Yes, that’s me. And this is why manicures are having a field day with the polisher, rub rub rub until my nails are smooth and shiny … And unfortunately, as fine as diamond.Just the varnish fades they are falling apart. So back to my fate of international supermodel, manicure looks at me with a big smile and goes to work.
At one point, I watched he and he put a layer of matt varnish species means pretty, and I ask him what it is. “Ridge filler for streaking “He said. I smiled, but I believe it means.
It is only when it is dry (and I stand to catering, telling me stuff yourself, it’s my favorite thing to do on the shootings) that I take a look at my hands and I realize that I no longer see any streaks. I return to the home at marathon mode and then make up, despair, my manicure is a party with his magic products.