During all the dance prep last week, S got to go and have a mani-pedi to look fancy for the dance. Most of the nail salon work is done in house, so we let the professionals take care of her this time. G had soccer and other things going on, so she missed out on the rare opportunity to get her nails done. I told her that I would take her for her turn this week before her 5th grade graduation/awards day. Today was the day, so we went to the nail salon. First off, bless those people. Inhaling those fumes and scrubbing people's feet and dealing with their nails and unwanted facial hair...bless them. I have had a total of two pedicures in my life. Today's and one more. My feet are not my best feature, so I went in already feeling self conscious. G was too preoccupied with the massage chair to care what anyone thought of her nice looking feet. The guy who worked on my feet and the girl who worked on G's feet started chatting in their language. He attacked my foot with an implement that felt like weasels were ripping my flesh(thanks Frank Zappa). I swear I have seen some of the instruments he had used on the Food Network grating cheese, zesting lemons or grating nutmeg. Then he pointed to my baby toe, looked at the lady and said something in their language...they had a big laugh. What? I know my "Wee wee wee" piggie is kind of weird, but what did they say? When they found out G was 10 instead of the 13 that they thought, they said, "BIG girl...hahaha!". So then I was in pain and G was deep into body image issues while getting daisies painted on her big toes. It all ended up okay, I guess. I just wish I had a friend with me who spoke that language and could translate. Wait...maybe I don't.
Either way, her toes looked cute...and those people had a right to mock my toes. They deserve it.
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