A Thing of Beauty

As previously mentioned in several posts, I am not a girly-girl.  I try to wear outfits and makeup that are at least within the realm of “normal”, but my hair and nails are two areas that always seem to be the least prioritized.  I used to get my hair cut and colored more frequently, but since my cash flow has slowed to a trickle, it was the first thing to get pushed to the back burner, which is probably why my hair now looks it was used to put out a grease fire.

But my nails have never been really important.  I like the colors and designs, but I am always fussing with my fingers or banging them into stuff, so nail polish lasts about as long as the car ride home.  Plus I’m usually so anxious at the end fumbling to get my card or cash out without messing my fingers up that any relaxation is quickly depleted. 

However, a soothing pedicure is different.  Since I live in Florida now and am constant wearing sandals, I do think it’s important that my feet look neat and pretty.  But I also love the experience of a good pedicure. I love the comfy chair, the warm soapy water, the lovely scented lotions they apply, and that nice massage they give your legs sometimes.  It is such a nice way to feel a little bit girly, a little bit luxurious, and a lot more groomed.   

This was the happy relaxed attitude I had when I arrived at the salon recently to join my friends Alejandra and Rachel for a little pedi-pampering.

I would not say I left feeling the same.

I walked in and immediately spotted the girls in their oversized chairs.  They had their technicians already by their ankles, prepping their toes.  I stood back for a few minutes, waiting for another technician to greet me but after a few awkward moments had passed, my friend Rachel finally broke the ice.

“The colors are over there,” she gestured to the wall of polishes.  I quickly selected one I liked and was then left standing around for a few more minutes.  I didn’t want to jump right into the chair if I wasn’t supposed to, but eventually the lady doing Rachel’s nails, and whom I took to be the manager, finally gestured for me to take a seat next to Alejandra.

I assessed the monstrous chair for a second, trying my best to find a dainty, lady-like way to lower myself into it, but I finally just sort of dumped my body inside. This thing looked like the Iron Throne in it's massive size.  Little did I know it would quickly become an Iron Maiden.

As the girls were talking, I decided to start my relaxation first by turning on the massage settings.  The remote looked like something out of Star-Trek; lots of unintelligible icons and arrows, but nothing that made a lot of sense.  Just as I was about to put it down and pretend I changed my mind, the manager mumbled something to me and nodded at the remote.

“To the left…to the left?  To the LEFT,” was all I could make out, so of course, I kept pressing every button on the left.  By now all four pairs of eyes were looking at me as I fumbled like an ape with an iPod, praying silently to middle-aged Jesus to please make this chair do something.   

And then, he granted my wish.

The chair suddenly whirred to life and no sooner had I breathed a sigh of relief and everyone turned their focus off of me, that I began to feel the chair compress and crush my back and legs.  Alejandra began telling me the latest with her as I felt the meat of my bones being shaken off while the chair angrily pummeled my spine.  It must have been quite the sight because the three of us began to get the church giggles and soon the two girls were trying to fiddle with their settings on their own chairs.  Thankfully, they also struggled with getting their massages just right, but finally we all found comfortable settings and were happily vibrating together.

Next, the lady finished up with Rachel’s nails and moved on to me.  She turned the water on in my footbath and it quickly filled up with steamy water.  I began to slowly dip my toes in, expecting the perfect temperature.  Instead, as soon as my skin hit the surface, it was met with the fiery broth of a witches brew.  I kept trying to get my feet acclimated, but they just recoiled in pain.  The tech came back and noticed my feet outside the bath and put her hand in.

“Oh!  Too hot!” she said.  She then drained it and refilled it with a much more tolerable temperature. 

After my feet had been soaking for a little while and I was lost in my gab with the gals, I noticed the tech bringing out the pumice stone. 

Now, like I said, I am not girly, I wear a lot of open toe and unsupportive shoes, and I run sometimes.  In other words, I know my feet are kind of rough.

*I should warn my readers- if you have a weak stomach, you may want to skip ahead (wuss).

I look down and see that she is scraping the calluses off my feet and what’s being left behind on the purple towel looks exactly like Frosted Flakes.  I begin to laugh and when I make eye contact with Alejandra, she looks down at my feet as well.

A horrified look spreads across her face.

“Oh my gawwd…” she says.  I whisper to her about my comparison to a certain grrrrreat breakfast cereal and she visibly gags and laughs.  “That’s sooo gross!”

I look down to meet the gaze of the poor nail tech at my feet and she gives me the wryest of looks, almost as if she’s saying, “Really…?  Do you walk on hot charcoal for a living??”

I try to apologize but she merely puts my now much softer feet back in the warm water for a few more minutes.

Finally she began to give my legs the rubdown, my favorite part of a pedicure.  I sat back, expecting a nice firm yet gently massage.  She took my leg and began to move up and down, slowly strangling my calf and scraping my shin.  I wince in pain but allow her to do her work.  After several agonizing minutes, it’s finally over.  My legs are sore, but also feel soft and sweet smelling.

Lastly, she applied the polish; a pretty, sparkly, dark purple, perfect for Halloween.  We waited for a few more minutes, talking and waiting for our polishes to dry.  When we thought it might be time to remove our foam toe-separators, the manager tech came back and stopped me from removing it myself.  In one quick yank, she pulled the foam from my foot, nearly taking a toe with her.  But still, the polish remained fully intact and undisturbed.

As we climbed out of our chairs and hugged each other goodbye, I looked down at my now softened feet and sparkly toes.  I may not be a girly-girl, but it’s nice to feel feminine and pretty once in a while, despite the pain and humiliation. 

I smiled and walked happily away, wondering if this is how those super-pretty girls feel when they walk out of their many beautification appointments, elegant and graceful, sexy and sassy.  I pondered that all the way back to my car.

And then proceeded to bang my toe on my car door.

Yup…must feel something like that.