Welcome to September 2011! Here I am on day one of the month with nothing very interesting to say to you. I wrote up a few entries yesterday, but they ended up being some pretty serious-type ones and I just am not quite up to sharing them. Maybe someday I will modify them and re post, but when I consider the spirit of most entries I put on here, they just didn't jive.
To give you an idea, part one was about priorities in dating and part two was about dating after the death of a loved one. Eesh.
Instead, I am going to write about a much more benign issue: mani-pedis.
For the uninitiated, mani-pedi = manicure/pedicure. According to Merriam-Webster, a manicure is a "treatment for the care of the hands and fingernails." If you know French (or Latin), you can probably break apart the meaning of the word quite easily. You should then also know that a pedicure is the same thing, except for feet instead of hands.
In case I have never mentioned it, I have a "thing" about being touched by strangers. No, I am not a raging germophobe. There is just something in me that finds the act of touching to be somewhat intimate (and not in a sexual way) and it means bringing some part of my body into contact with someone else. Perhaps it is my Minnesota-ness coming through, but it conjures up the whole idea of personal space for me.
If I know you well, chances are I have no problem giving you a hug, shaking your hand, or patting you on the back (and vice versa). But if I just met you, back off. OK, so I won't run away screaming or try and fend you off with a sharp stick, but I will be profoundly unhappy about it.
To embrace a bit of a tangent, this idiosyncrasy really comes into play when I date. For whatever reason, the general male population of the world (at least the ones that I date) have decided that two dates is the proper amount of time after which major physical contact can be initiated. Don't let your brain jump too far ahead there, Buster. I am talking about kissing. Honestly, I had a guy stop calling me once because he figured that since we didn't make out on the second date, I wasn't interested.
Ha. Try putting that in reverse. I was interested. See, when I am actually interested, I prefer to get to know the person before sharing saliva. Kissing random strangers is only fun when you're intoxicated. And in a foreign country. But we'll save that story for later.
Wow, I just realized how far off topic I went! I guess it illuminates my problem in a more concrete way, but it may have been too much information.
Back to mani-pedis. These procedures enjoy a great deal of popularity in modern society, especially when the weather is warm and extremities are more exposed to visual evaluation.
Some people get mani-pedis (or simply manis or pedis) on a weekly basis. Some stretch it out to monthly. Some only do it every once in a while for a special treat.
I do it only when forced. When I really think about it, I am pretty sure that I have only had a manicure done 3-4 times in my life. I know for absolute certain that I have had a pedicure done NEVER. The manicures were done primarily in conjunction with weddings in which I was an active participant, so that is my excuse for those. Honestly, I can deal with manicures most of the time, but this is because I feel no shame about my hands or fingernails.
My feet are a different story. Over the course of time in general and summer in specific, they get a little uglier. I use a relative term, because even in the best circumstances, my feet are strange looking. I have long toes. I also have a condition known as Morton's Toe. It's hot.
Also, I have calluses, on my heels mostly. I do occasionally attempt to use a pumice stone to work on these and three times in my life I have used foot lotion. But I always forget and anyway, my mornings are already too full of personal hygiene routines that I simply do not have room for another.
So not only are my feet somewhat deformed in general, but they have that lovely extra oomph of dried callus-y skin as well!
To many people, the obvious solution would be to get a pedicure. While the overall shape and structure of my feet cannot be changed without surgery, surely the callus situation can be remedied?
Unfortunately, this is never going to happen. First, of all the parts of me that I really do not like to have other people touch, my feet are top of the list. Yes, I am ticklish, but it is more than that. It just gives me the heebie-jeebies.
Second, it is dangerous. How many stories have I heard about people getting infections from pedicures? A lot. No thanks. Also, nail polish tends to turn my nails yellow. Who needs that?
Third, it is expensive. If I am going to drop money on cosmetic treatment, it sure isn't going to be for my feet. Hair? Yes. Teeth? Maybe. Heel? No way. Not on your life.
The good news is that summer is almost over, and with that, the end of sandal season. Soon my feet will be safely ensconced in socks for the duration of the winter and not visible to anyone but me and my dog. I knew there was a reason that I love winter.
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