Pedicure Virgin

By Tonia

“Toe: A part of the foot used to find furniture in the dark.” –Unknown

Recently a friend of mine bought me a pedicure. I’d been a pedicure virgin. That’s right. At fifty-something I’d never been touched by anyone’s polishing tool; never been stroked by the pedicurist’s hands; never felt the afterglow of being finely serviced.  I’d been holding out for Kevin Costner – hoping he’d paint my toenails like he did for Susan Saradon in Bull Durham. But I’ve been waiting since 1988 so I guess that’s not going to happen.

I HAVE painted my own toenails. My self-administered pedicures were done leaning over my knees on the toilet or pulling a knee up to an ear lobe in order to get a foot in my lap. These contortions really should qualify me as an Olympian athlete…. they CERTAINLY didn’t qualify me as a pedicurist.

And, by the way, the sight of middle-aged women’s feet is not for the faint-hearted. Only other women actually have the stomach for it – kinda’ like childbirth and baby diarrhea. The layers of dead skin is like the rings that grow on a tree each year. And, when you’re getting as old as I am, those layers are getting pretty dense!

My own feet have their own special challenges. I have one toenail that is particularly thick and needs a hacksaw to trim it. I could have hired a blacksmith instead of a pedicurist. And then there are my little toes which turn sideways like they’re looking to leave the other toes. Don’t know what pissed them off exactly, but they have been very antisocial with the others.

But the pedicure was fabulous. I highly recommend them. So get a group of girlfriends together to go get pedicures. Take some Drunken Gummy Bears with you as a snack. No one in the salon will ever know that you are eating your liquor. Check out the recipe HERE at the Sweetest Temptations. Their stuff is FABULOUS!