So I’ve never done a blog before. But I came home from having a pedicure today convinced I needed to share my story. Thus the blog.
I must be a freak of nature. Everyone I know loves getting pedicures. And manicures. And massages. And all sorts of pampering. What’s wrong with me?
Until my daughter Courtney’s birthday last year, I was quite content in never having had a pedicure. Until then, I enjoyed doing my own nails. Actually, I found it very relaxing (when I found the time to do it). But, everyone told me what I was missing! How much I would enjoy the pampering!
Courtney suggested we (she, Cait and I) first get pedicures and then go shopping and have lunch for her birthday. Not wanting to disappoint, I went along with the whole experience.
We selected an untried place, close to the interstate, We were the only customers at 10:30 in the morning on a work day, so we sat together and each had a different technician. I was in the middle of my girls, so that I could absorb all their knowledge in what was happening.
I felt a little bad for my technician because I knew my feet were in terrible shape. I was over 50, and like every other part of the body, time had started to take it’s toll on my poor dogs. There were calluses and cracked heels and, of course, my vulcan toes.
Yes, I said Vulcan Toes. You know. As in the Vulcan salute made so popular by iconic character Spock of Star Trek. Where the four fingers of the hand split in twos and separate into a “V”. Well, my toes split open just like that.
Distracted by the hammer shape of my toes, I never really noticed that they also split into a “V” until my awesome daughter, Caitlin, starting sticking things in between them.
Yes, you heard me right. The child that I loving reared into adulthood sat on the sofa with me and, as I dozed after an exhausting day and a cocktail, put bamboo sticks and candy wrappings in between the gaps. Love that child!
And let me mention for the record that my “pinky” toes are fat and sausage-like with tiny little nails that are very difficult to see because they hide under the toe next to them.
Now that you have a visual, you can see that giving me a pedicure is a challenge for even the most experienced technicians. Back to my first time.
Court suggested I try the massaging chair. Despite my trying different settings, the rotating balls behind me kept thrusting into my back, forcing me forward at measured intervals while I was trying to appear relaxed! OK, not my cup of tea. Court’s technician offered her some type of razor for the calluses on her feet and Cait’s technician was suggesting an eyebrow wax. Obviously, this pedicure business was filled with land mines you had to avoid!
So my technician was AWE-SOME! Did you hear the angels’ voices just now when you read that word, AWE-SOME? She made my feet feel like they did when I was in my twenties. Very soft and supple and hardly any hard spots left at all. And she trimmed the thickened nails so that you couldn’t even tell and polished them to perfection. She also did this massage thing on my calves that I really didn’t like too much, but at least she wasn’t trying to sell me anything extra like the girls were dealing with. I didn’t realize then that she probably didn’t want to work on any other part of me after getting a load of my feet!
As an aside, the rest of our day was great. But this blog is about my experience with pedicures.
Because my feet stayed really nice for about a month, I decided that having a pedicure on a regular basis was a good idea. WRONG!
Hoping to get the same technician, I went to the same nail shop a little over a month later. Unfortunately, my loving technician was not there, but a willing little lady brought me to a chair and started to work.
In a short time, I felt like I was part of a porn flick. This pretty little lady was sitting between my legs, rubbing my feet and legs and smiling lovingly at me. This was really uncomfortable and I asked her to stop massaging me. Perhaps it was because my girls were not there with me, but this tech just wasn’t as good as the first one. While she was polishing, I noticed she used the remover on a brush or Q-tip to clean up some areas where the polish had gotten on my toes. Since I messed up and needed to do that all the time, I didn’t think much of it. Finally she was done, and left me sitting in the massage chair for quite a while.
When she came back, she yelled at me! “You mess up! I fix two times and you mess up again!” I had clearly disappointed this woman who, less than an hour ago, had smiled lovingly at me while massaging my calves. This time she slapped the toe separators back on me and made me walk to the front of the shop where the drying fans were, yelling at me as I followed her, “CAREFUL! NO MESS UP!” Fearing for my life (or at least my toes), I followed the nail nazi until she pointed for me to sit in front of the drying fan and she once again fixed my polish and put my feet under the fan.
Needless to say, I did not return to that shop. I found one closer to home, where a sweet, young, quite pregnant Asian lady was happy to take me to a pedicure station. This young woman was quite chatty and, despite her faltering English language skills, we had a wonderful conversation. When I asked her name, she answered, “Karen”. I thought it odd, but I called her Karen and she did a wonderful job. She was studying not only English, but was taking other classes at a local school. My pedicure was great and my belief in papmering myself in this way was affirmed. The following month I visited “Karen” again. The only hitch was that no one at the Asian nail shop knew her by that name. Thankfully, she saw me walk in and brought me back.
I missed a couple of months and was quite self-conscious that my nails were getting long and the polish was looking nasty. So just before Thanksgiving I stopped in a mall nail shop since I had to be in the mall anyway. Big mistake. My nails remained WAY too long. I think they do this purposely so that you need to come back in sooner. Especially me with my hammer toes where my toes curl downward.
Unable to get back before Christmas, I went back to the shop where Karen works today. Although it is an observed holiday and schools, banks and government agencies are closed, they had only three technicians available today. All were busy when I arrived, so I was told to sit at station 9, which I did. A technician started the water, so I could start soaking. Unfortunately she forgot to turn on the cold water, so I burned my toes. I SHOULD have known the rest would not go well!
I won’t go into the details, but suffice it to say, I left an hour and a half later with smudges on both my big toes and dried nail polish on the toes next to them. My nails are still too long, and the male technician scolded me to be “Careful!” Darn my cursed vulcan toes!