I Survived

I hate getting pedicures.  I guess I could say I am "typical" and have a thing about people touching my feet.  But truthfully, I have to assume it is not someone's life-long passion to be a pedicurist, so as I am sitting there soaking my feet and thinking how completely over indulgent this is I also can't help but wonder what is going through the pedicurists mind.  I'd be grossed out.  I mean not by me.  I groomed.  I specifically shaved my legs for the occasion and I wore socks in my boots so my feet...wouldn't smell like feet.  However, since it is my nieces upcoming Bat Mitzvah this weekend, and I am planning on wearing open-toed shoes  I decided to put my skeevey-ness aside and get a pedi.

 

 Truth-be-told, my 15 year old daughter had, what I am sure she will whole heartedly admit, a near-death anxiety attack over going to the dentist to have two minor cavities repaired, which would surely be resulting in an obnoxiously large novocain needle being stuck into her mouth.  Assuming she would be completely traumatized for the balance of the day, my only way of convincing her to actually leave the house was to promise her we could go get mani-pedis if she survived.

he survived.

So did I.