NTKOG #192: The kind of shameless semi-fetishist (yeah, I said it) who finds it not even a little demeaning to pay other human beings to massage, beautify and otherwise have way too much contact with her feet.
I am: the only person in the world who has contact with my own feet. This — this doesn’t seem like a lot of ask.
I am not: one of those people who think feet are grody, don’t get me wrong. I’m cool with bodies! I think they’re neat! You’d be hard-pressed to gross me out with any body part that’s not actively oozing.
The Scene: Cheap, amazing nail salon in Coolidge Corner, along with Sister, because — against all odds — I’ve become a manicure-every-week lady. When Sister suggested we ladies-who-lunch it up with spa pedicures, I snorted right in her face.
I’m not a pedicure girl for two very good reasons. 1) Flipflops. All day, every day. Combine that with my usual footcare regimen (soak in tub and scratch off rough skin with nails — what?! It’s therapeutic), and you end up with feet that are a members-only situation.
2) More pressingly, I am so ticklish that I don’t even know what tickling is, because by the time people’s fingers even approach my skin, I’m already shrieking and throwing punches. (Just ask The Ex, who regularly braved bruises just for hovering his hands over my shoulders and saying “tickle tickle tickle”.)
Glanced down at the ol’ talons, sympathy grimaced for the pedicurist, then went for it. And the first five minutes were indeed super relaxing. Few things in life make one feel quite as fancy as reclining in a vibrating massage chair, flipping through vapid magazines, and soaking your toes in sea salt while paying another human being (not very much!) to grovel on their knees at your literal feet.
Then I actually looked down at the girl, just as she picked up a pair of clippers and — oh frig the horror — prepared to clip my toenails. (I’m so sorry! I’m so sorry! I swear I’d just trimmed them! I’m getting ptsd just remembering it.)
Wait, did I say “fancy?” I meant “like an asshole”. Playing cosmetics colonialist makes me feel like an asshole. And respect to all ladies who indulge in regular pedicures, but I personally wouldn’t ever want it to feel any other way. While I’m physically able to do so myself, I never again want to pay another human being to clean my dang feet. And when I’m not physically able to do it myself? Guess it’s time to quit the flipflops.
Anyway, my toes look pretty cute.
The Verdict: Hey, my fierce empathy for the proletariat! Crazy, man! I thought I threw this away when I moved out of my sophomore dorm.
{ 11 comments… read them below or add one }
I love pedicures. I love manicures too, but the nail polish on my toes last for weeks vs days on my nails.
I also love foot rubs.
Love a pedicure but share the guilt. Little Chinese ladies really shouldn’t have to slough off the yuckbits from my heels ….
I think your reaction is out of proportion. I mean, whatever, you’re totally entitled to it, but to me the idea of washing some stranger’s saliva coated silverware or half-eaten fettuccine off a plate in a hot restaurant kitchen is at least equally as nasty as having to clip strange toenails. The underbelly of the service economy is vast and disgusting; it seems to me that a pedicure maybe just puts it on display more than we’re used to.
Yeah, it’s not necessarily a rational opinion, but for me it just put too fine a point on the degrading nature of parts of the service industry. And the symbolism is so literal! It’s worse because, unlike things like cleaning dishes, it happened in front of me. I felt the same way about this as I felt at my office a few weeks ago, watching our very sweet 65-year-old cleaning lady (is that really the best way to say that? cleaning woman? hygiene maintenance employee?) spend two hours mopping up a sewage back-up.
Our society is pretty friggin’ gross. I think we all have to have a few personal triggers that remind us how very gross it is, just to maintain order.
I could never be a pedicure kind of girl. Uh uh. There’s the guilt. There’s my hatred for feet or people touching feet. And, apparently, we have similar reactions to tickling. Never gonna happen.
I’d be scared to have ANYONE touch my feet…
I’ve actually never gotten one. I’ve gotten plenty of manis, but out of respect for the she-cession or her-cession I no longer get them. I think my feet look pretty cute as is, though, with the occasional callous so sometimes I paint them but that’s about it.
Now, if you want to be *really* adventurous, why don’t you do the fish pedicure? It’s Japanese and you put your feet in the water and the fish swim over and eat the dead skin only so it leaves them all smooth. It was on that Jessica Simpson beauty show, and I’ve seen it elsewhere. Though there are legal problems with it. C’moooon, for the blog? :)
Oh man, so I’ve actually considered this for the blog. The thing is, I’m so ichthyophobic that I’ve actually had to change dentists and optometrists because they added aquariums to the waiting room. I also can’t go out to eat Chinese or Thai food with friends, because if there’s an aquarium in the restaurant, I will freak out and have to leave immediately.
That said, I’m nearly 100% positive that having to actually touch fish would give me the biggest panic attack I’ve ever experienced. Slash might end up with me vomming in the fish tank.
You’re scared of fish? That’s oddly endearing. Though I know how you feel. I’m that way about roaches. When I watched the Top Model ep where the gals had to go down a runway with a roach tied to their shirt or something, I knew that was my room 101.
A++ Orwell reference!
I apologize if this is just another “me too” comment after a slew of “me too” comments, but… me too! I can’t stand having people near my feet–even if I have trimmed my nails recently, there’s still a nagging fear that I didn’t do it well–and I’m super ticklish there too.
Not that it’s as much of an issue, being a guy. Even if I were asked to go–it happens–it would be very, very easy to decline.