I have always been a huge fan of painted toenails. It is my personal belief that if you are a woman, there is no good reason why your toes shouldn’t be used to accessorize an outfit if you’re wearing open toe shoes.
If God had intended for toenails to be bare, He wouldn’t have invented nail polish or the strappy sandal.
I won’t even get into my feelings about men’s feet because it will only serve to confirm that I have some serious quirks. But let me just say, nothing will cause me to lose my appetite faster than seeing a man, with unkempt feet showcased in sandals, walking into a restaurant. I don’t like to see bare male toes, unless they belong to someone I love, and even then, I can’t look too closely.
Due to all these issues, I spend a great deal of time trying to avoid looking at the ground during the spring and summer months. I am too afraid of seeing hairy, exposed men toes.
And I’m sure all of your husbands and loved ones have perfectly nice feet. I just don’t want to see them, which is why I don’t look down. It’s my issue. I own it.
So, while obviously I am not qualified to work as a pedicure technician at a salon, I am a huge fan of the pedicure. I realize there is huge irony to be found in my total willingness to let someone else work on my feet, when I can barely look at other people’s feet.
But my thought is, if you’ve made the choice to be a pedicure technician, then you knew what the job entailed when you signed on. It’s not like you’ve been blindsided by the job requirements, like I was during my first job at Sound Castle Music when I was informed that in addition to selling cassette tapes, I was also expected to vacuum the store every night.
Talk about high pressure.
Anyway, the other day I decided to treat myself to both a pedicure and a manicure. I don’t always get manicures because I have nails that are the consistency of tissue paper, so there isn’t much point. I keep my fingernails short and unpainted, because as strongly as I feel about painted toenails, for me personally, I believe just as strongly in unpainted fingernails. My nails are short and unappealing, there is no need to highlight their shortcomings with a color called Cancun Fiesta.
There is no fiesta happening at the ends of my fingers. Just short, weak sadness.
Anyway, the lady gave me my pedicure first, and then we moved over to her manicure table, where she started my manicure by telling me to soak my sad, little nubs of nail in warm, soapy water. As she started to apply cuticle cream, she stopped, looked at me and asked, “Would you like me to wax your mustache while you’re here?”
I don’t know lady, would you like me to flush your tip down the toilet?
You can’t tell me she doesn’t have some anger issues due to working on people’s feet all day.