Taking a day to be pampered

The other day I decided to do some spring cleaning at my house. It was a beautiful day, and I had absolutely nothing better to do. The weather was just cool enough to open all the windows and let the fresh air flow through, but still a bit too cool to hang out by the pool. Although my home is usually neat and tidy, a little deep cleaning never hurts. I figured it would help me waste at least a couple of hours. 

Unfortunately, my adrenaline level was higher than I thought, and I finished detailing everything in less time than expected. No more laundry. No more dusting or vacuuming. Even my car was spotless, thanks to my hubby Joe and his obsession with detailing it regularly. So here, it was barely noon, and I was in a manic mode with no chores or projects to occupy my time. 

Suddenly, I remembered I had a gift certificate for a mani-pedi that Joey gave me for Christmas. It’s been almost four months, and still, it sits in my “To Do” basket on my desk. I must admit the whole spa treatment is a pleasure I usually do not partake in. Generally, I am the person who gives these gift cards to friends and loved ones I feel need the pampering. Although I am a touchy-feely kind of girl, I find it all rather uncomfortable. Plus, I am still lucky enough to be limber enough to reach my toes, so I have always kept my piggies looking fabulous on my own. 

However, this day I thought, “What the heck?” 

Too bad now the thought of a stranger touching me made me realize I better do some seasonal grooming before I let the public see me up and personal. Seeing I am a newbie to the whole salon experience, it didn’t dawn on me to make an appointment first. I was surprised to see how busy they were. I was told it would be at least an hour. I decided to walk to the other end of the plaza and quickly sneak into the hair salon to get my bangs cut while waiting. This way, I could kill two birds with one stone and look extra special.

Sadly I waited over 30 minutes for it to take less than two minutes to “clip clip” me. At least now my “just above my eyebrows” bangs were no longer almost touching the tip of my nose. “Wow! Two cuts with the scissor across my forehead, and like magic, I have a fresh look. Too bad I can’t learn how to do it myself because it sure would save me a lot of time and money the way my bangs grow like weeds. Even with the best pair of professional scissors, I would still look lopsided.” 

So, back to the nail salon, I go, hoping it is close to being my turn. Which it was. But much to my surprise, I was being serviced by a man. In a store that appeared to have all female attendants, I managed to get the one gentleman that must have just clocked into his shift. An instant feeling of odd came over me, but I decided to just go with the flow. I’d sit silently in my massage chair with my eyes closed and simply enjoy the experience. 

Just then, a sizable manly guy walked in and bounced himself into the chair next to me. He had to be well over 6 feet tall and at least 300 lb. He literally shook my chair as his body landed in his. He was definitely a regular customer and had a specific lady who did his nails. He also had an appointment and entered like he owned the place. As he strolled down the aisle, he made all the manicurists appear tiny, sitting on their stools and working on their clients. 

I briefly opened my eyes before attempting to find my zone again. Sitting still and not talking are two of my most challenging tasks. But I would try my best to relax and make the most of the moment. But no. It was impossible. Bill was as animated as I am, and he had lots to share while he was being worked on. Considering his outward rugged appearance and deep, masculine voice, I would have never expected his size 16 feet to look so delicate. But by the time we were both finished, I understood why. 

Bill did not care about how soft or pretty his feet looked. He came once a week to the salon to spend time with his stylist, Mia. Apparently, she was a great listener, and he fancied her touch. I never realized how much was involved in a professional pedicure. It’s not only clipping and polishing your toenails. It’s sitting in the massage chair, the hot stones, the loofah scrubs, etc.

I was so happy to know I had shaved my legs before coming because I would have curled up and died if Tal had been touching all over me with prickly legs. It’s bad enough when my grandson Jeremy complains about me being scratchy. Instead, Tal actually complimented me on my feet and said he was honored to be my first. 

Then as he started to polish my toenails with the neon purple color I chose, I couldn’t help myself. I asked Bill, “Did you pick your color?” 

He replied without missing a beat, “I bring my own,” he said with a hand flip and a wink. 

“I’m sure you do,” I giggled. 

Then, Mia and Tal said something to each other in Vietnamese before also starting to chuckle. All I could think of was the old Youtube video, “Oh, you look so pretty,” as I walked out of the salon feeling refreshed with a new group of salon friends to boot.

Laugh on! Peace out!

Lisa DeMarco is a columnist for Villages-News.com.