The things we endure for beauty

About every other month, I like to treat myself to a pedicure. I went this week, not because it was time, but because I desired beautiful toes and fingers for the upcoming Toyota Pros Ball that my husband, Chris, escorts me to each year. The last thing I want to do is show up in a new dress, shiny shoes, and opulent-looking costume jewelry only to have it tarnished with scabby, flaky feet and un-manicured nails.

I don’t normally get my fingernails done because this isn’t advised in the field of nursing so it’s been about 2 years since I last endured the procedure of having tips applied for that naturally artificial look of pink and white perfection one can only achieve with the application of a mysterious bonding powder and very strong-smelling liquid that deprives your brain of oxygen and makes you slightly light-headed.

If I’m not mistaken, the last time I did get them done, the tiny man who applied them was astonished at how large my fingers were. I could have wrapped my hand around his wrist with my thumb touching my pinky. Of course I looked big to him!

He took one look at my thumb and began shaking his head and proclaiming in broken English that there was no nail in his box for my thumb. My thumb was too big! It would not work.

I thought to myself, “I’m sure there is a box of toenail extensions around here somewhere! Make it happen, mister! You don’t have to freak out. I’m not THAT big!”

I looked at my thumbs and contemplated their size. I wondered if any men with special nail interests ever got turned away with their feelings hurt.

Lucky for me, his female coworker saved the day. She had a box of nails made for people like me. Needless to say, I never went there again.

Now I go to Top Nails. They are incredibly friendly and if they laugh, they at least wait until I leave the establishment.

One thing I don’t like in any place I go is that massage chair. I don’t like to jiggle in front of other people so I shut off that setting and press “knead” only, if I have it on at all. I do, however, thoroughly enjoy watching other people jiggle.

When I had my nails worked on this week, I chose an active length. The technician cut the first time and asked if that would be sufficient. I tried working the touch screen on my phone and realized I needed more taken off the top. My right index finger is my most important because that one’s print is my identification marker to open the locked medication system at work.

The worst part about having your fingers incapacitated is that, as soon as it happens, an itch in or around your nose, eye, or ear inevitably occurs. I wanted to dig an imaginary goo ball out of my eye so bad, it almost drove me insane. I’m sure it had something to do with the chemicals I was inhaling. I feel bad for those nice folks who do that every day which is why I always tip them well and treat them kindly.

I left feeling like I looked more presentable. My hair is the last frontier, but there isn’t much hope there unless I buy a wig. Come to think of it, that may be a good idea. I just hope my head isn’t too big to hold the netting.