The toes have it

I've been last at many things in my life, most of which don't make a bit of difference. I was the last person in St. Peter to own a microwave oven, for example. And, I was the last adult female of all of my friends, relatives, and acquaintances to get a professional pedicure. Unfortunately, bunions, hammer toes, dry skin, and callouses plagued (and still plague) both sides of my family tree (sorry kids). When I finally got my first pedicure, I thought I'd witnessed a miracle: soft skin, no callouses, polished toenails, and no raggedy edges. What I didn't know at the time is that the miracle needs to be repeated every couple of weeks, or my feet return to their original crustiness. It seems rather self-centered to spend time and money on foot vanity that often, so I don't.

Last Saturday Annie and I went to the nail salon in River Hills Mall for much-needed pedicures and our general amusement. Customers and clients alike provide good entertainment. We were assigned to pedicure chairs right away--no waiting. As I watched the foot tub filling with swirling warm water, I noticed bits and pieces of something spinning around. When I put my feet in the tub, I could feel those bits and pieces on my skin. I don't know what they were, but if you've ever had a pedicure, you've seen the stuff the pedicurist shaves off people's feet. I decided to go into a trance and not think about it.

Annie had a design painted on her big toes by the talented person working on her feet. It turned out great, as you can see in the photo.
After polishing my toenails a pale pink color, my pedicurist asked me if I also wanted a design. Once before I'd had a flower design painted on my toenails. Although I'd asked for a flower on ONE of my big toes only, I was quickly told, "No, no, that not look good," and the pedicurist proceeded to paint both, all the while acting disgusted that I'd made such a crass request. This time I didn't even go there, but did say that I wanted a SMALL swirl or flower; something subtle. The woman nodded, double-checked with a co-worker who spoke English better, and then nodded again.

The first clue that this would not turn out as anticipated was, of course, the foot bath with floaty things in it; the second clue was the fluorescent orange polish the pedicurist opened. By the time she'd covered the two toenails in flowers that nearly flowed over onto my skin, added accent colors and five teeny, glittery jewels on each big toenail, I was back in a trance again. Annie was biting her tongue to keep from laughing. She treated me to the pedicure, perhaps out of pity. That was my last pedicure experience for a while. We're ready for a new microwave, anyway.

PS: To respond to Annie and Teresa, here's the toe-- although the photo makes it look better than in reality. The orange color was truly psychedelic. The left nail was worse. Hard to see all the jewels, but you can see the glitter, which I'd put out of my mind, no doubt when I was in one of those trances.