Me, My Feet, and I
Where I come from, you don't get pedicures. Okay, well some might, but it is a rural part of the country really. One that cherishes the "simple" things like flannel as a fashion statement, over 7 months of winter, and no need to get your toe nails painted fancy.
Sure, growing up all girly and that we painted our toe nails--but getting them rubbed down, lotioned, callus removed by a stranger? Wasn't even an option at the boutiques or salons. And so, having grown up with that mentality, I didn't see the need either. Until of course I realized my feet looked awful compared to all the other women sporting flip flops around the office.
Though, that fact alone still didn't get me in for a pedicure. I had ticklish feet (still do). My husband would touch my heel and I'd yank my foot away aghast that he'd do that to me when I was so comfortable on the couch (if you have ticklish feet like I do, you know what I mean). But another two summer seasons passed, then the birth of The Kiddo, and then a gift certificate landed in my mail box. For a pedicure. At a top-notch Oh-My-God-They-Spent-A-Lot-Of-Money-For-This salon. And I was forced to face my fear.
Along with the girlfriend who bought the present, I went it ready to control a wiggling foot for some stranger who was going to make her money today. I mean, 28 years of calluses and wear at tear on one's toes? This pedicurist was in for quite the work out! Not to mention the ticklishness.
But what I walked into, was luxury. Warm gushing water through my toes. Lotion. A hot wax treatment that at first made me want to cringe, but then I loved... and then of course the callus rubbing. And clipping. Trimming. More lotion. More rubbing. Massage. More hot wax. And in the end, I had sparkly and perfectly pink toe nails.
I was hooked.
It became a ritual for Girlfriend and I... every three months (it was all I could afford--even at a cheaper salon). And it became my day out with the girls. We ate lunch. We got our toes done. We watched a movie. We shopped. And I would stare down at my lovely toes.
Wish I could say this routine went on for years (about 3). But here we are.... I whined I needed a pedicure before being pregnant. Then when I was pregnant with my daughter. Then after she was born. Now she's 10 months--and FINALLY I got my ass back in that chair for a well-deserved pedicure (if I say so myself).
Again, I felt bad for the pedicurist. I know she was cringing at the new calluses. The new wear on my feet. My rough heels. And the fact that it had been ages since I trimmed up my cuticles. But you know what? I didn't give a damn. Book open in my lap, glass of water to my left. Relaxing music. It was heavenly. Even though the young woman went a little bit too far with the sanding of my heels. I'm dealing. My feet feel like my feet again. Soft and smooth.
Sure, growing up all girly and that we painted our toe nails--but getting them rubbed down, lotioned, callus removed by a stranger? Wasn't even an option at the boutiques or salons. And so, having grown up with that mentality, I didn't see the need either. Until of course I realized my feet looked awful compared to all the other women sporting flip flops around the office.
Though, that fact alone still didn't get me in for a pedicure. I had ticklish feet (still do). My husband would touch my heel and I'd yank my foot away aghast that he'd do that to me when I was so comfortable on the couch (if you have ticklish feet like I do, you know what I mean). But another two summer seasons passed, then the birth of The Kiddo, and then a gift certificate landed in my mail box. For a pedicure. At a top-notch Oh-My-God-They-Spent-A-Lot-Of-Money-For-This salon. And I was forced to face my fear.
Along with the girlfriend who bought the present, I went it ready to control a wiggling foot for some stranger who was going to make her money today. I mean, 28 years of calluses and wear at tear on one's toes? This pedicurist was in for quite the work out! Not to mention the ticklishness.
But what I walked into, was luxury. Warm gushing water through my toes. Lotion. A hot wax treatment that at first made me want to cringe, but then I loved... and then of course the callus rubbing. And clipping. Trimming. More lotion. More rubbing. Massage. More hot wax. And in the end, I had sparkly and perfectly pink toe nails.
I was hooked.
It became a ritual for Girlfriend and I... every three months (it was all I could afford--even at a cheaper salon). And it became my day out with the girls. We ate lunch. We got our toes done. We watched a movie. We shopped. And I would stare down at my lovely toes.
Wish I could say this routine went on for years (about 3). But here we are.... I whined I needed a pedicure before being pregnant. Then when I was pregnant with my daughter. Then after she was born. Now she's 10 months--and FINALLY I got my ass back in that chair for a well-deserved pedicure (if I say so myself).
Again, I felt bad for the pedicurist. I know she was cringing at the new calluses. The new wear on my feet. My rough heels. And the fact that it had been ages since I trimmed up my cuticles. But you know what? I didn't give a damn. Book open in my lap, glass of water to my left. Relaxing music. It was heavenly. Even though the young woman went a little bit too far with the sanding of my heels. I'm dealing. My feet feel like my feet again. Soft and smooth.
