The Pedicure

Since I'll be working through the weekend & I got off a little early today, I decided to give myself a little treat.  What to do?  Easy decision.  There's precious little in the world that I enjoy more than a pedicure.

And since this was a spontaneous decision, I was woefully ill-prepared, clad in my dress pants and riding boots.  But the nail salon is right next to a Dollar General (classy, I know) so I could just pick up a pair of flip flops there.

News Flash: Dollar General doesn't have their flip flops out yet.  So I end up buying a pair of granny house slippers.  I'm totally going to Kroger after this, I thought to myself.  I've always wanted to know what it was like to traipse through Kroger in my slippers like so many people do these day.  I did it once before, but that time I was walking that fine line between the flu & runny nose zombieism, so the only reaction I got that time was pity.  This time: check it!  Yo!  I'm all gangsta & my toes are perfect!

Anyway...

 They may be next to a Dollar General, but my nail salon has a pretty upscale feel to it.  It's the kind of place where they offer you a complimentary glass of wine.  You may choose between white or pink ...  I know this is hard to believe, but I pass on the wine.  Pink wine = Boone's Farm.  No thanks.  I have enough problems.  Like this insane desire to walk through Kroger in granny house slippers.

I am assisted immediately by a young man who seats me in the massage chair.  First of all, I'm short and those things are programed to service someone at least 5" taller than I am.  If I were 5" taller, the chair would be squeezing my shoulders at the base of my neck instead of pinching the back of my head like a grape.  The second reason... well, I'll just be blunt.  I have big boobs.  I jiggle plenty by myself.  I don't need a machine to add to it.  So the massage chair is not my favorite part.  I usually try to catch them before they turn it on, but today I failed so I decided to just roll with it.

Then I was instructed to roll up my pant legs.  Oh yeah.  Sorry, cute little Vietnamese hipster boy with the sassy haircut I was shooting for the last time I had my hair cut-instead of the Girl Interrupted chop job that I got.  Soooooooo sorry.  You see, it's not quite Spring yet and I live in a drafty old house.  It's pragmatic to not shave during the winter--yeah, pragmatic.  Saves on heat bills.  Soooooooo sorry.  He didn't seem to care.

There's no moral to this story.  I just thought I'd share.  I impulsively had a pedicure today.  I was embarrassed that I hadn't shaved my legs and even more embarrassed that I had to walk out to my car in granny house slippers.  Maybe the lesson is this: don't worry about what other people think, enjoy your pedicure and put a pair of flip-flops in your car, girl.