Now, It's Personal

Hi Friends and Family!

I haven't had the time or the gumption to blog lately. I just haven't been able to make it a priority. But for those of you wondering, I'm fine, thanks! WAY too busy with Nursing School, but I'm fine.

So you're probably wondering what's so earth shattering in my world that I was prompted to blog about it. It's this: I have had it with Pedicure Personnel!

What's that? I could just paint my own toenails at home and quit complaining about something completely in my control, you say? Well, yes, I could. I could also cut my own hair, but there are just some things that are better left to "professionals". I know I don't see Jay out front changing his own oil, right?

Unfortunately, my first pedicure, a few years ago, ruined me for life. It was in Tahoe, at some random little empty shop that Jay found in the phone book. This sweet girl spent one and a half hours cleaning, exfoliating, polishing, filing, rubbing, massaging and spit shining, and we had the best conversation! We talked and laughed the whole time. It was heaven. It felt very much like the picture at the top of this blog, and exactly how I figure all pedicures should feel.

Nowadays, I never go to the same shop twice because I keep getting beaten and tortured everywhere I go. And for some reason, the girls who work there talk and laugh about me in a language I don't understand. Most of them remember to keep their eyes averted, but there's always one or two who can't resist looking up to see just who the dope is that my girl is talking about. Jay thinks I need to learn, in perfect Vietnamese, "Really, and why do you say that?" That would show them.

So I tried a new shop today. My old, red pedicure had grown out to half way up my big toe and was starting to look funny.

So I walked up to this place and you know how you pause in the door of a shop and stick your head in and ask from the door, "Do you have time for a pedicure?" Well, I did that. And the answer I got back from the completely unpopulated shop was, "What color you want?" What? Their time was color dependent? I was confused.

I didn't know what to say, and fearing that if I wanted the wrong color I'd be turned away, I said, "What color?" Just to be sure I understood the question. "Yes, what color?" I thought a minute and said, "Purple, I guess." So I was invited in. Is it just me, or was that weird?

So, I took my seat and put my feet into scalding hot water. They started to turn bright red and blister right away, so I asked for slightly cooler water. I guess that ticked her off.

This girl almost made me cry. She wielded her little clipper thingy like a scalpel and cut my toes to shreds. She shoved them half way down the sides of each Big Piggy and cut the toe nail to half way down the toe. She kept insisting she was curing me of my ingrown toenails. What the heck? Wouldn't I be aware of my own ingrown toenails? I think so. I kept spying, over my complimentary Star Magazine, to see how badly I was bleeding. I had tears in my eyes on the first three edges, and on the last one, I finally yelped and pulled my foot away. And I was wondering if the next guest would mind soaking her feet where my toes had been bleeding.

Anyway, when she finally finished, she pulled my capri pant legs back down, because I had pulled them up for the lotion. I saw that she had pulled them lower than I like, like this:

I like to wear them cuffed, so I pulled them back up. Like this:

Would you believe she put down the bottle of nail polish and uncuffed them again?!? She was dead serious! She paused to see if I would try to cuff them again and I decided it best to leave them alone. I'm not taking it personally, though. Purple was probably just the wrong color today.

The whole thing reminded me of the time I went for a haircut in Italy and before I left, the hairdresser had pulled her OWN makeup out of her purse and had helped me with the dark circles under my eyes, and added a lovely shade of fuschia lipstick to my lips. In fact, here is a picture of that day, on my walk home from the Beauty Parlor.

Please be kind and ignore all the chins. If you can't ignore them, please laugh about them with somebody besides me. I take them, all 10 of them, very personally.

So, anyway, my point is this. I am now on a quest for The Perfect Pedicure, and I'll find it if it kills me. I just can't pay $25 to be beat upon and have my toes minced!