It's Not for the Faint at Heart

Today has been a thought provoking day. It all started when for the one-millionth time I rubbed/snagged my dry, crackling heel across my bed spread. I've tried to do the home pedicure in an attempt to be fiscally responsible, but in the end, it's not the same. I'd had it. I was going in for professional help. On the way there, I decided to treat Songbird to a pedicure as well because she thoroughly enjoys them. Then my thought process went further and I decided to also treat Prince Lawn Gnome to one as well. After all, the feet of a 15 year old boy can definitely use a little primping.

So, here we are, all seated in the massage chairs, soaking. We soaked and soaked and waited and waited, "oh, yes, it's Friday, I should know better than to just walk in," I tell myself. Finally, it was our time and that's when it hit, the guilt. I always feel completely guilty for these foreign women that speak with a heavy accent I can barely make out. They sit on these tiny stools in a position that would cripple me for life. I can't help but apologize, "I'm sorry. I know. I know, they're bad. I'm sorry." The woman just smiles a smile that means "I pity you" in any language. Then she comments on my feet to her friend. The friend looks, and comments back. More smiles. "Yes, yes, I know," I find myself saying, but really, I don't know. What the heck is she saying?

I'm sure I don't want to know. It's one thing to feel bad that someone else is scraping and sloughing because I'm too inept to do them myself. It's another thing to hear about it. All in all, I'm glad I couldn't make it out. Three pedicures... $70. Tip+guilt an additional $18. Smooth heels, and knowledge that Prince Lawn Gnomes feet have been cleaned at least once this season, priceless.