Careful, You'll Smudge My Polish!

I absolutely love having my feet rubbed. However, my hubby is completely grossed out by feet. Not just mine, but the mere thought of toes makes him shiver a bit. On a few rare occasions I have managed to appear pitiful enough to garner a massage, however some of the relaxing effect is lost when he begins to gag. I give him credit, he does try, though.

Anyway, today he sent me to get a pedicure for my birthday. (I could tease him and say it was a selfish measure designed to help him avoid the task, but we going with the 'aww, he's so thoughtful' route today!)

I melted into the massage chair while the woman began the treatments and I tried to relax. But, I had a hard time turning my brain off. Here's a few of the things that were running through my brain:

A. Why do the employees have to speak in Vietnamese? And constantly giggle amongst themselves. I can't help but feel self-conscious!

B. Nothing makes me feel more attractive and feminine than watching a gorgeous, petite, woman hunk off chunks of my heel skin with a razor. Yummy.

C. I sure hope they clean those razors between uses.

D. I also hope I'll be able to walk when this is over - that's one huge, nasty pile of skin there! UGH!

Before I knew it, the massage was over, my skin was again baby soft, and my toenails were slathered in 4 layers of a gorgeous purple paint. I thought I was done, but the woman said that all pregnant women needed extra attention to their feet (At least I think that's what she said. She spoke so quietly and with such a strong accent, I can't be too certain). She began another massage. I'm thinking YAY! THIS IS STINKING AWESOME! But then, it happened - I felt up an Asian pedicurist with my feet!

I tried to move my toes, but there was no avoiding it. She was leaning in to massage my calves, and I couldn't escape. I tried subtly shifting, but that didn't work. And there is no way I can bend my toes up to touch my shin, or I would have! It was bad enough I could tell she was wearing a lacy bra! I thought about saying something, but what? "Excuse me, your breasts are on my feet?" That hardly seemed appropriate. "Careful, you may smudge the nail polish?" I don't think so.

Cris and McKenzie are running errands now, so I haven't relayed my experience with him yet. I'm curious to see what he says about the birthday gift when I tell him. It should make excellent dinner time conversation when we go out to eat tonight with his parents (from whom he inherited his foot phobia) Heaven help them survive this night! LOL!