Body of Evidence, Nailed

Okay so we get home from the hot springs late Sunday eve. I have scheduled nails at 9AM on Monday. I am tired and irritated from the get go. I usually do laundry on Mondays. Not that I am wedded to this day but it seems to work, and after the spa adventure we are out of clothes. The darn appointment will cut into my laundry time. It is also another expense to feel guilty about. Moving cross country is expensive business and I have been watching the pennies fairly closely. The ancient hotel was $100 per night, plus food. I should not be spending more of Mark's hard earned money on me. So I go.

The salon is manned (womaned) by the owner. She is wearing a blue tooth and is the only one there. She couldn't have been friendlier. The place was old and clean but messy. I felt instantly at ease. She introduces herself and directs me to this salmon colored vinyl throne in the corner of the room. It in fact dominates this area of the shop. Sort of like a padded Barbie version of an old shoe shine chair. It is up on a dias and has a whirlpool sink in front of it. I gamely climb up take off my shoes and socks and stick my feet into the prefilled tub. She turns the jets on. Did I mention my feet hurt a good portion of the time? This is heaven. And then she turned on the vibrating salmon colored Barca lounger. She needs a seat belt on the darn thing. I melted and almost slid out on to the floor. All this keep in mind is before she even touches me. She leaves me to simmer in my own juices for ten minutes while she answers the phone and schedules appointments. She then arrives and sits at my feet. I immediately tense up. I am embarrassed. I am unworthy to have this obviously efficient, kind, intelligent woman sitting at my feet and cutting my toenails for God's sake. In my career I have done all that it is possible for one human being to do for another. I did not feel demeaned. I felt empowered. I gave comfort, care and if I was lucky cure. Why was I unwilling to receive same?

I am pondering this question when she begins to massage my feet and legs. Good grief. Was this part of a pedicure? You must be on your feet a lot she says. Not any more I say, but I was a nurse. Ahh she says. What the heck does that mean I wonder? Is RN tattooed on my soles, soul? Varicose veins it turns out. Nurses and beauticians have them more than other women. Makes sense to me. The massage continues with Reflexology thrown in. She pushes a point behind my big toe. It hurts, a lot. The sack around your heart is swollen she says. I am dubious. I am almost sure I do not have pericarditis. Are you sad about anything? You are holding tears there she says. Damn, damn, damn. Yes I was very sad about moving I say. You need to release those tears she says. This sort of thing goes on for half an hour. I then get to pick the polish. I pick light pink. Oh Honey not for your toes she says. She comes over with metallic cherry red polish. This is for the toes of a fifty year old women she says. She was right. I love, love, love my toenails! (So for the record does Mark. I showed him my toenails when he came home for lunch and he said he would call in sick for the afternoon! Who knew?)

The fingernails were not quite as interesting. Other customers began to arrive and she did not do the reflexology. She did fix my one split nail and showed me how to do it at home. My fingernails are a frosted champagne pinkish color. Makes my fingers look longer. I also love looking at the finger nails. I even went out and bought a pair of rubber gloves to keep them from getting chipped.

Alright nails are done and I am paying, GLADLY. She says I also do massages would you be interested? I say yes let's schedule one, thinking a month from now. She says how about tomorrow? I am staggered and stammering. At this point Mark shows up for a haircut! He says she"ll have one. I go home in thongs in the snow happy as a clam. Amazes me still a week later.

I will write about the dentist and the second massage in next letter. My nails look wonderful on the keyboard in spite of the fingerless gloves.

Take care of yourself.

Love Bea