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Friday, April 30, 2010

on our toes, toes

"You're not going to blog about this, are you?" Eli said to me from across the nail parlor.  My feet were submerged in warm bubbling water.  I smiled and looked up at her from behind the article on Justin Beiber in People

"No...maybe.  Okay, yeah," I said placing my feet at the top of the tub, taking full advantage of the two perfect jet streams.

My friends know me so well.  But, I figured, if my beautiful friend, BBB, can blog about her bunion, I could blog about my pedicure.  Right?  Of course, right.

Four girlfriends and I went to get our feet prettied up for graduation/Into Hymn's special goodbye ceremony for seniors.  This is lovingly referred to as the tenard, don't ask me why.  I mean, I know why it's called that, but it's really complicated and I've only given myself fifteen minutes to write this post. 

I've never had a pedicure before.  Which was, according to my friends, becoming a problem.  I sent a picture of my finished toes to a friend via text message.  She responded, "Wow, so pretty!  Love the color.  How many times did they have to wash the bins out?"

Again, my friends know me so well.  Maybe a little too well.  But, since when is it a cardinal sin to wear flip flops and walk a lot?  Apparently, it is when you pay an innocent young lady to clean your feet for you.  And to that lady, I am so sorry.  I hope a five-dollar tip was enough to compensate for the massive emotional torture you went through, scraping the 21-years worth of dead skin from my feet.  Yech.

Anyway, the whole experience was a combination of awkward, intriguing and wonderful.  Awkward because I really did not know what was happening.  I'm a "dip your toe into the water before jumping in the pool" kind of girl.  Don't get me wrong, once I test the water, I'm all in.  But, I need the toe dip.  I was "toe-dipping" around the pedicure area of the parlor, just standing around.

"Sit down," a  young Korean not-so-gentle-man said.  "You are making me nervous."

Yikes.  I sat down.  It was not a natural experience, I'm not used to pampering myself in this way.  But, it is definitely something I could get used to.  It brought me back to the days where we would give ourselves pedicures at sleepovers.  Our friend's mothers would put those little cushy toe-separator-thingies in our goodie bags, and we'd walk around the house on the heels of our feet, our arms out for balance.  We probably looked like some sort of breed of sparkly-toed flamingo, strutting around trying not to screw up our newly-painted toes.

End result?  Perfectly purpley-pink and smooth toes, an hour to relax and feel like a little girl again (and to watch the opening scene of Avatar that was playing on a screen in the parlor).  For twenty-four bones.  Oh, I'll be coming back.

8 days.

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