I realize that getting a pedicure is designed to be a relaxing experience. The big leather chair, the gossip magazines (OCTOMOM IS BROKE?!?), the warm, soapy water, the tiny Asian woman methodically rubbing your feet. You want flower? No, I don't want flower. I'd like to draw as little attention to my feet as possible. A giant white flower dripping with glitter and rhinestones seems counter intuitive. Even as I'm walking through the door I'm thinking to myself god this is going to be great, this is going to be so relaxing, this is just what I need. But almost immediately I feel stressed out. What color should I choose, is peach so last season? Where do I put my purse, why is this lady yelling at me, do I want a flower? And the stress continues to mount upon sitting down in those awkward chairs. The tiny lady asks me something in what sounds like English and Vietnamese covered in marbles and sent through a bull horn. Smile and nod. Smile and nod. Insert awkward laugh. Smile once more.
The thing is, despite all this added stress and pressure, I LOVE getting my nails done. This is my favorite pampering activity. Hell this is just my favorite activity in general. I'd take this over kissing. I'd take this over Starbucks and a pint of Ben and Jerry's. That's saying a lot. And I take it like a man. I don't giggle or laugh or fear that I'll accidentally kick the nail technician in the face while she's rubbing her delicate Asian hands over my feet. I take it like a woman in love.