Lamest milestone ever
I finally did it! No, not the murders I'm always threatening to commit. I got my first pedicure.
I have mentioned my reluctance to get a pedicure in the past. I always just felt very weird about it. I had planned to get my (finger) nails done on Tuesday afternoon so I decided that maybe I should go ahead and get my toes done, too. It's summertime so my toes are spending more time on public view, as it were.
I normally keep blue or black nail polish on my toes. I do this in direct protest of all the times my mother said, "Blue fingernails? You look like you're in heart failure!" when I was a teenager. I decided I'd better take the polish off before going to the nail place. I had a hard time getting all of the blue stuff off so I still ended up looking like I, um, have heart disease. You win, Mom.
The nail place wasn't too busy so I ended up in the pedicure chair right away. I was assigned to a nice motherly lady who spoke very little English. She had dark hair that was pulled back into a ponytail. "This is my first pedicure!" I told her. She gave me an open-mouthed smile as if I'd said something pretty funny.
I watched her face closely as she examined my feet. I do take decent care of my feet so I felt pretty confident that compared to the gross stuff she's probably seen, mine weren't too bad. She didn't seem terribly alarmed by them as far as I could tell. Before I knew it, she was soaking my feet in the swirling water, fishing them out to apply various potions and exfoliants, and then dunking them again. She even massaged my calves, which was also a first for me. I didn't want to be rude and stare at my phone the whole time, so I just watched the TV that was hanging on the wall. It was the middle of the afternoon on a weekday (that just happened to be a holiday), so the good news is that I have the full scoop if I do need a personal injury lawyer at some point.
After at least a half hour of the dunking/exfoliating/moisturizing, the lady wrapped my feet in hot towels and then patted them. I smiled at her. She had mouthed the word "hot" before applying the towels. I sure wish I could have learned more about her, like where she's from originally and whether or not she has nightmares about some of the feet she's seen. At the end, she painted my toes in the color I'd chosen (NOT blue or green). She wiped off my flip-flops and installed them on my feet.
"Thank you very much," I said. She smiled.
I finished my visit to the salon with a quick repair to one of my fingernails and a coat of the same pink nail polish I'd chosen for my toes. As I walked back through the salon, I saw the pedicure woman watching cat videos on her phone. They're hilarious in any language, amiright? When I paid, I left a very significant tip in hopes that most of it would go to that nice lady (she didn't wear a nametag - otherwise I'd definitely call her something other than "that nice lady.") I guess I just didn't want to be yet another white chick sitting in the pedicure chair with a petite Asian lady crouched in front of me. And yet, I guess I was. I don't know how to reconcile that.
I have to confess that my feet felt pretty great when I left. And they certainly looked better than they do when I attempt a pedicure on myself. Will I go again? I don't know. Maybe. Probably not.
I have mentioned my reluctance to get a pedicure in the past. I always just felt very weird about it. I had planned to get my (finger) nails done on Tuesday afternoon so I decided that maybe I should go ahead and get my toes done, too. It's summertime so my toes are spending more time on public view, as it were.
I normally keep blue or black nail polish on my toes. I do this in direct protest of all the times my mother said, "Blue fingernails? You look like you're in heart failure!" when I was a teenager. I decided I'd better take the polish off before going to the nail place. I had a hard time getting all of the blue stuff off so I still ended up looking like I, um, have heart disease. You win, Mom.
The nail place wasn't too busy so I ended up in the pedicure chair right away. I was assigned to a nice motherly lady who spoke very little English. She had dark hair that was pulled back into a ponytail. "This is my first pedicure!" I told her. She gave me an open-mouthed smile as if I'd said something pretty funny.
I watched her face closely as she examined my feet. I do take decent care of my feet so I felt pretty confident that compared to the gross stuff she's probably seen, mine weren't too bad. She didn't seem terribly alarmed by them as far as I could tell. Before I knew it, she was soaking my feet in the swirling water, fishing them out to apply various potions and exfoliants, and then dunking them again. She even massaged my calves, which was also a first for me. I didn't want to be rude and stare at my phone the whole time, so I just watched the TV that was hanging on the wall. It was the middle of the afternoon on a weekday (that just happened to be a holiday), so the good news is that I have the full scoop if I do need a personal injury lawyer at some point.
After at least a half hour of the dunking/exfoliating/moisturizing, the lady wrapped my feet in hot towels and then patted them. I smiled at her. She had mouthed the word "hot" before applying the towels. I sure wish I could have learned more about her, like where she's from originally and whether or not she has nightmares about some of the feet she's seen. At the end, she painted my toes in the color I'd chosen (NOT blue or green). She wiped off my flip-flops and installed them on my feet.
"Thank you very much," I said. She smiled.
I finished my visit to the salon with a quick repair to one of my fingernails and a coat of the same pink nail polish I'd chosen for my toes. As I walked back through the salon, I saw the pedicure woman watching cat videos on her phone. They're hilarious in any language, amiright? When I paid, I left a very significant tip in hopes that most of it would go to that nice lady (she didn't wear a nametag - otherwise I'd definitely call her something other than "that nice lady.") I guess I just didn't want to be yet another white chick sitting in the pedicure chair with a petite Asian lady crouched in front of me. And yet, I guess I was. I don't know how to reconcile that.
I have to confess that my feet felt pretty great when I left. And they certainly looked better than they do when I attempt a pedicure on myself. Will I go again? I don't know. Maybe. Probably not.
Comments