The very first time I got a pedicure, I was visiting my sister in California. I was probably in my twenties, and had never had anything particularly girlie done, unless you count the unending number of bottles of fire-engine-red hair dye that had graced my head since the minute I discovered that the upside to being a Sun-In blonde is that that blonde will absorb red like a sponge.
And we won't discuss the absolute unruly glory of my eyebrows in those days. I do have some vanity left.
So my sister dragged me along to let a stranger who spoke minimal English rub my feet and legs, trim my toes, and erase those calluses from my feet. (Fellas?) It felt good, warm, restful, despite the growing horror of the callus removal. Once done, I had brightly-colored toes and feet as soft as a baby's bottom. What a luxury! What joy! Until I walked, each step more painful, excruciating, weird...why would it hurt to walk?
Turns out there's a reason for those hard-earned calluses. Being able to walk upright, it turns out, is a small price to pay for a little bit of not-so-lovely bits of me.
I didn't get a pedicure for about a decade after that, and when I finally went to the nail salon, it took a goodly bit of bribery to lure me in. My memory is bad, but my physical memory of hurting is strong, and I couldn't stop thinking of how long it took to walk full upright again, and be able to wear cute shoes again. This pedicure, however, was different and better. Some scrubbing, smoothing, painting...no skin removal. Perfect. I've been addicted for years now.
Until this last one, where the helped pedicurist asked me if I'd like a "procedure". Sure, why not? You guys, it was the same as the first. So of course walking hurt, and of course I had to stand in a hallway for an hour in heels with no protective barrier between my skin and shoes and floor.
That was last Thursday. Today is Tuesday, and I can finally walk upright again. No more procedures for me.
Tuesday, April 17, 2012
Saturday, April 7, 2012
Another Way To Do It
GPOM has been restless lately, wandering the place when not killing whatever requires his attention in Fallout. I remember this waiting feeling when looking for work and trying to find ways to fill time when there's nothing but an endless ocean of time, the soft, calming voice in your head screaming, "FAILURE!" and a bank account that mocks you with its very existence. I try to be understanding, am incredibly imperfect at it, but I do try. I also make a point to get out of the house so he doesn't feel the evil eye of my home-based business glaring down on him. I also try to encourage him to get out of the house as well, and I give him tasks and chores so that he's contributing to the household.
I sound like bloody Mother Teresa, don't I? Well, I'm not. I glare in judgment sometimes and don't listen and occasionally lord what I'm doing over him. Really helps his self-confidence, I've found.
Anyway - there was a random $1.99 data charge on our cell phone bill this month, so I asked GPOM to call the company and get them to reverse the charge. We don't use data plans on our phones, and even if there was a one-second mistake, there's no way I'm paying $1.99 (plus tax!) for it. So GPOM called and got what seemed to be a very inexperienced customer service rep, who kept repeating to him that she would figure out what the charge was about (it was on his phone) and that it might be a mandatory upgrade. The phone connection apparently wasn't that good (why I still have a landline) and I'm guessing her English was a second language, so the barriers were pretty insurmountable.
After about fifteen minutes, GPOM let loose with an expletive or two and hung up, telling me that he'd pay the blankedly-blank two dollars.
If you know me at all, you know that's not going to fly. Not that I don't appreciate the gesture and efforts from GPOM, but that my need to screw over the phone company because of $1.99 (plus tax!) is simply too strong. There is very little I can control in this world, but I'll be damned before I pay a charge for a service I did not use (or at least get a credit on next month's bill). After fifty-two minutes of hold and gentle conversations with a charming young woman named Olivia, I got the charge reversed.
I also got laundry done and the entire kitchen cleaned, including offloading the dishwasher. That's what you can do in forty-five minutes of hold music.
I sound like bloody Mother Teresa, don't I? Well, I'm not. I glare in judgment sometimes and don't listen and occasionally lord what I'm doing over him. Really helps his self-confidence, I've found.
Anyway - there was a random $1.99 data charge on our cell phone bill this month, so I asked GPOM to call the company and get them to reverse the charge. We don't use data plans on our phones, and even if there was a one-second mistake, there's no way I'm paying $1.99 (plus tax!) for it. So GPOM called and got what seemed to be a very inexperienced customer service rep, who kept repeating to him that she would figure out what the charge was about (it was on his phone) and that it might be a mandatory upgrade. The phone connection apparently wasn't that good (why I still have a landline) and I'm guessing her English was a second language, so the barriers were pretty insurmountable.
After about fifteen minutes, GPOM let loose with an expletive or two and hung up, telling me that he'd pay the blankedly-blank two dollars.
If you know me at all, you know that's not going to fly. Not that I don't appreciate the gesture and efforts from GPOM, but that my need to screw over the phone company because of $1.99 (plus tax!) is simply too strong. There is very little I can control in this world, but I'll be damned before I pay a charge for a service I did not use (or at least get a credit on next month's bill). After fifty-two minutes of hold and gentle conversations with a charming young woman named Olivia, I got the charge reversed.
I also got laundry done and the entire kitchen cleaned, including offloading the dishwasher. That's what you can do in forty-five minutes of hold music.
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