Is it me, or are some of these banners really frikkin' scary? I feel like I should click onto some of them, if only to tell their creators to seek counseling. I don't want to hear about your dark whispers! Make it stop!
So, the pedicure. First of all, I was extremely disappointed because I had finally settled on a nice deep turquoise, my favorite color, but then when I got there and looked at the selection, it was pretty much limited to your basic pink-peach-red debutante palete. So I went with the color I've had on my toenails all summer, which is sort of a dark, bloody red. I almost went for bubble-gum pink (which is what the debutante in the chair next to me got), but I just couldn't go through with it.
If you've never had a pedicure, let me tell you, there is a lot involved. My feet were sauna-ed, massaged, exfoliated, massaged again, buffed, waxed . . . you get the idea. At one point, the pedicurist got out this thing that looked exactly like a potato-peeler and started shaving scandalous amounts of, um, extra matter off of my feet. I was ashamed of how much of this material there was, but when I commented on this to the pedicurist, she just said, "Ah, this is nothing. You should see the older women. They have maybe three times this much." Yikes.
My feet are now lovely and soft and smooth, and I think they might actually be giving out a faint glow. I hope I tipped the pedicurist adequately. Anyone who has to spend an hour with my feet deserves some compensation.
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