It's a fine, fine line

Sometimes it's hard to distinguish between want and need.

For about a year, I worked in a job that provided me with a veritable cornucopia of free stuff. Everything from a pair of jeans, to fancy designer sunglasses, to a pair of boots. But mostly I received cosmetics and toiletries. Lots of it. Many of it of a much higher quality (or price point, anyway) than I would normally buy. And every once in a while, I would receive something truly great. Enter the cuticle balsam...

Some background for you. I do not have nice nails. My nailbeds are very short and wide. As wide as my fingers. Growing my nails long in any way only draws more attention to their remarkable width. Seriously. I once went to have fake nails put on for an important performance exam in theatre school (which I almost failed, because I spent more time thinking about getting fake nails and what I would wear than actually preparing the songs) and I was convinced that the woman was magically going to make my nails look as beautiful as my mother's nails are naturally. Instead, she took one look at my hands and exclaimed: "Your nails are so wide! I have to use my second widest tip on your index finger!" My self-esteem has never recovered.

The only time I feel good about the appearance of my fingers is when my nails are short and my cuticles are tidy and moisturized. Not an easy feat, particularly during an Ontario winter. The constant handwashing and dry weather make my cuticles all raggedy and ravaged. That, in turn, makes me feel like I should sit on my hands rather than wave them around like a game show hostess, which is a big part of my normal manner of speaking.

One day at this old job, I received something called cuticle balsam in a package of nail care items. I was intrigued. You just brush a little bit onto each cuticle, wait 30 seconds or so, and then massage it right in. (It's oil-free, so you don't have to worry about removing it before putting polish on. Not that I polish my short, wide nails. Ew.) My cuticles had never looked so good! I became an addict, using it every night before bed and every time I gave myself a manicure. The difference was instantaneous and amazing.

I even brought it with me to NYC last January, because I had to attend a fancy awards show for work and wanted to look my best. It would be the last time I would enjoy the satisfying feeling that well-manicured fingers can bring. Packed in an outside pocket of my luggage, the bottle was shattered during my return flight. The mess in my suitcase couldn't compete with the mess in my heart.

It's been about a year now and I have yet to stop thinking about the cuticle balsam. Despite the fact that I have other, decent cuticle products (also free), they just don't measure up. (Inadvertent Project Runway-ism there. I missed it on Monday night, so now I have to wait until Sunday. Sad.) So I decided to track it down and find out how much it costs in the real world, where you don't get it for free.

Hold on to your hats, ladies and gentlemen. $19.95!! For a small jar. Twenty dollars. Do you know what I could do with twenty dollars? I could go to a movie AND have a snack at Tim Hortons. I could purchase at least three things that I need at the drugstore. And I could buy A LOT of bananas.

However, the balsam was an undeniably superior product to everything else that I've used. Isn't quality worth more? But wouldn't I be doing myself a grave injustice if I dug my hole of debt deeper by $20 for a bottle of cuticle balsam? A product that I may feel I need and I know I definitely want, but only because I have this warped idea that my ragged cuticles somehow make me less of a beautiful person?

You'll be happy to know that I have been living without the balsam for a good year now and have no intention of going back to it. Unless I win the lottery, and then it's balsam for everyone.

Total debt: $11,000 and change
Spent today: $10.20 (Foodstuffs and toilet paper, which was on sale.)