Minneapolis woman has the world's longest fingernails. Here's the story behind her nails

In the quarter-century since Diana Armstrong started growing her fingernails into what recently was confirmed as the world's longest set — measured by Guinness World Records at a staggering 42 feet, 10.4 inches of keratin between her eight fingers and two thumbs — she has heard it all.

The 63-year-old grandma from north Minneapolis has gotten side-eyes from an untold number of people at the grocery store. People have called her fingernails nasty, have called her crazy, have questioned whether she just wants attention. Gawkers ask if she's able to go to the bathroom (she can), if she can take baths (only showers), and whether she can zip a zipper (nope). A young man once came up to Armstrong at a restaurant and said her nails made him lose his appetite. She left: "I didn't let him see me cry."

"People judge me all the time," she said.

But Armstrong's fingernails are not just some sideshow meant to be ogled. Her nails contain a lifetime of pain as well as a life lesson Armstrong teaches her six grandchildren: "Don't judge people. Because you never know what somebody went through."

In 1997, Armstrong was living in Chicago. She had attended beauty school, and for decades, she braided hair for hours a day. One of her five kids, Latisha, was Armstrong's little shadow, a bundle of energy who loved singing and dancing. Armstrong had pretty long nails at the time — a couple of inches — and even though Latisha bit her own nails down to nubs, she loved helping her mom care for her nails.

One day not long after Latisha's 17th birthday, the girl wasn't feeling well. Like Armstrong, she had asthma, so Armstrong took her daughter to the doctor, who gave her medicine and sent her on her way. The next morning, Latisha didn't wake up. Latisha had died in her sleep of an asthma attack. For whatever reason, Armstrong blamed herself.

Even 25 years later, Armstrong's pain is fresh. She bursts into heaving tears when she tells the story: "Every time I tell this story, it's like it's happening all over again."

She also didn't tell anyone why she was growing her fingernails: a way to keep Latisha close.

For nearly 25 years — until earlier this year, in fact, after Guinness confirmed her as the record holder — she kept that a secret. She didn't tell her other children, even when they beseeched her to cut them. She didn't tell her boyfriend. She didn't tell anyone. She'd say, "I'm going through something," and leave it at that.

"My doctor told me I needed to cut my nails to function," Armstrong said. "I told him, 'Mind your business.'"

Since she has revealed her secret, a weight has lifted. People understand her.

Armstrong uses acrylic powder to strengthen the fingernails and keep them straight instead of curled. When they do break, she always has her nail kit on her, and super glue.

"We're just used to it," said one of her daughters, Rania Armstrong of Robbinsdale. "She's normal to us."

Armstrong has delicate features, graying dreadlocks, and a calm, almost regal demeanor. Decades braiding hair means she has especially strong fingers, which is a necessity for carrying around 9 pounds of fingernails per hand. (She had them weighed at the doctor's office.)

In many ways, her fingernails are like a disability. She only leaves the house once every two or three weeks. She doesn't drive. She no longer works. When she has to pick her nose, she uses a knuckle. She wears slip-on shoes, or a granddaughter helps her put on sandals. Instead of clothing with zippers, she typically wears dashiki dresses, easy to slip on and off. Her grandkids polish the nails once a year, a process that takes days. They also paint the nails a rainbow of colors.

Instead of encouraging her to cut her nails, her children now embrace their mother's idiosyncrasy. And she will keep growing her nails. For Latisha.

"I don't think I'll ever cut them," she said. "If I cut them, it's not that I'm finally accepting her death, but there won't be that part of her with me no more. This way, it always feels like I still got her."