Background: As Y’all may recall, I had my first professional
pedicure when I was 37 years of age. I never much cared about my toes being
pretty. Never painted them myself. Mostly hid my feet by wearing tennies or
shoes—not many sandals or flip-flops. Yes, I did spend oodles of years of my
life at swimming pools and some beaches. I actually didn’t have many friends
that got pedis—so I simply didn’t obsess about my (ugly-ish) feet.
Then My Sweet Hubby
(MSH)—via TLC—gave me a “Spa Day” at a newish spa/salon in our cute little town
for my 37th birthday. Part of my gift was TLC going with me and
participating in all of the same services I was going to receive. (She’s good
at arranging things like that. Teeheehee. That’s My Girl.)
Well, needless to say, I
wondered that day why in the name of all things fabulous I’d never had a professional pedicure. (I’d had a
few manicures—fake nails off and on—over the years. I hated being tied down to
the maintenance of said fake nails…to0 much pressure!) I’d been to a massage
therapist a few times in my mid-30s. LOVED that service. Have the BEST massage therapist on Earth in Ft. Worth that I rarely get to visit. Sniff. Sniff. I’d never had a facial and,
honestly, didn’t care for it that day and have never had another since.) But I
was fell hopelessly in LOVE with pedicures and pretty-painted toes!
Since that fateful and important day, I’ve had
approximately 250 pedicures. (I actually got my calculator out and did some
figurin’…guess-timatin’…could be a few more…don’t think it’d be less than
that…) I’ve never had an “exclusive” technician that I’ve gone to for a pedi.
I’ve been a “Traveling Pedicure Seeker”—going to shops all over Texas. Have enjoyed a few pedis in other States we’ve
visited as tourists.
I’ve had some WONDERFUL
pedicures. And I’ve had a few TERRIBLE pedicures. Maybe 8-10? BAD BAD pedis. Rude technicians. Technicians
that clearly had no idea I’m one of The Best Tippers they’d ever meet. (If I
get what I consider to be a BAD
pedi? My tip is still 20%. Much more than I should be expected to gift. I think
I do that because I’m too non-confrontational. I should tell them they’re not
doing their best to make me happy, right? If I don’t? I shouldn’t totally
punish them.)
NOW my specific pedicure story:
There’s a salon in Ft. Worth I’ve frequented mucho a lot in the past eleven years.
TLC and I discovered it when she lived and worked in the Big City. We had many joyous/fun
times there together. I’ve gone lots and lots by myself. I’ve never had a HORRIBLE
pedi at this salon. I promise you—when I have a BAD one? I don’t go back to
said salon. Period. End of Story.
So two weeks ago this
coming Wednesday, MSH dropped me off at this salon so I could enjoy getting some
pretty toes in honor of our Family Celebration of his birthday that upcoming
weekend. (See previous post…) He went
over to a fantastic grocery store he treasures—located nearby. I walked to meet
him when my pedi was finished.
On this particular
morning, I did something I rarely do: I opted for a “pedi upgrade.” Normally, I
choose what most salons call their “Classic.” I believe I could substitute the
word “Cheapest” for “Classic.” I’ve maybe “upgraded” to a fancier pedi maybe 15
times—in 25 years. I would contend the only difference in the cheapest pedi and
an upgrade is a few more lotions and a longer massage of your toes, feet,
and/or legs.
Instead of doing the $35
“Classic” pedi that day, I asked for the $50 upgrade “Green Tea
Something-or-Other” Pedi.
It was not my best-ever pedi. Certainly not my worst. The woman I
was put with was quite nice. She seemed to think of herself as a
“reflexologist”—as she asked me, several times, during her massage portion of
the pedi if I was “Okay?” I was—except for the two times she hit a nerve and I
nearly jumped out of the chair.
Overall, I believed it was
a good upgrade.
Then, late that afternoon,
after we got home, my right foot starting hurting. I had pain on top of it by
the base of my toes. I was watering plants on our front porch and thought a bug
had bitten my foot. Later, as I took my watering shoes off in the house, I didn’t
see a bite.The pain got worse as the next few days went by. My foot got
swollen. I trudged on—getting more “Steps” on my Fitbit than I’d seen
since I put said Fitbit on (December 27, 2015).
As I limped around our
casa, TLC and MSH begged me to go to a doctor. I kept telling them: “I’m
fine! I think it’s just bruised." And, at my age, it takes a while to recover
from injuries.
Once all of our kids and
grandkids went home that weekend, I cut down on my “stepping” activities. I’ve
stayed completely off my foot three different days. Like, I mean, I’ve barely
moved from my bed to the couch and back to my bed. I’ve iced it every chance
I’ve had.
I’ve now, today,
officially given in to the pain and worry and have an appointment with an
Orthopedic Doctor this coming Thursday. Since I have expensive ($800 per month)
health insurance policy that pays nothing until I reach a $6500 deductible (and I have
not used any of said deductible to date this year), my upgraded pedi could cost
me plenty. To which I say: Sheesh. Crud. Dadgummit.
I could be wrong. The pedi
may have not contributed to my injured foot. It could be totally
coincidental—the timing of it all. I am, however, swearing I have zero intentions of getting any
future “upgrades.” I’m going to be happy
with the technicians that are basically annoyed when all I want is the cheapest
pedi. If my pain and swelling was caused by the aggressive massage I received,
it will be my first injury suffered because of a pedicure. Hopefully, it’ll also be my
last. (Because I will be getting
pedis. I’ve become addicted to Pretty Toes. Sigh.)
I’ll let Y’all know the outcome…because
I’m positively certain you’ll be stressed until you hear from me about this
situation. Right? Winky. Wink.
Have a MARVELOUS Week,
Friends! (Stay away from aggressive pedicurists…just sayin’…)
smooches!
