Pedicure Season Is Almost Over And I Am Completely Relieved.

I have only recently realized that I take a lot of pictures of my shoes. If showing off new shoes is wrong, then I don’t want to be right.

There is a nip in the air. At least at night anyway. I awake to a cold bedroom now. Which I love. What is happening?

Fall is inserting itself into my summer. Okay so actually summer has been over. But fall is just now creeping in, ever so slowly.

All too soon, gone will be the days of thong sandals. As you can see from the picture I have a propensity to wear them. On my normal running-all-over-the-place-with-kids days, that is exactly what I sport.

Please don’t be disappointed. I am Bell On Heels after all. And believe me I wear sky-high shoes every chance that I get. Every chance. But some days, it just doesn’t make sense. Soccer field? I tried it once. I may or may not have caused a penalty. And I wasn’t even playing.

When I can’t wear 5 inch pumps, or thong sandals, I love boots. I am very excited about boot season. I am not one of those who can wear boots all year-long though. It has to be cold. Or at least cool. Once I wore Ugg boots when it was 40 degrees outside and I thought I was going to melt. How some of you wear Uggs in the summer, I will never understand.

Any other boot? I am down. Bring them on. I have black boots, brown boots, high heel, low heel, dressy and casual. I am prepared for the first hint of cooler weather.

What else does boot season mean to me? No more pedicures. I could not be happier.

I know, I know. Everyone loves a pedicure. I mean, look at my feet. I have finger toes. Meaning toes that look like most people’s fingers. Except they are curved. So I really need the rest of my feet to look amazing. As amazing as size 8 and a half finger-toed feet can look anyway.

I do not need dead skin on my heels or chipped polish drawing negative attention. I don’t need people avoiding me just to not see my feet. So I do get pedicures. But I cannot say that they do not come without stress.

Sure they start out amazingly. I get to put my feet into a tub of hot, bubbly water. That part I could do every day of the week. Heavenly.

I love the lotions. The rubbing. The gritty scrub that they put my ankles, shins and calves to remove dead skin. I love when she trims my cuticles. And cuts my toenails.

I love the hot towels that she wraps around my lower legs. I even love when a new polish color is applied. The massage chair. LOVE all of that.

So what is my problem? The sponge.

You know that white scrubby thing that they use to remove the dead skin from the bottoms of your feet? The very thing that I need done the most? Well I get tense at the very sight of it. And a little nauseous.

I have a habit of walking barefooted. Across my hardwoods. Across the nasty garage floor. The grass. You name it. If I am home more than likely I do NOT have on shoes. So my feet stay in terrible condition.

What could erase all of the damage that I do to my feet away? What could make them smooth as a baby’s bottom once again? That sponge.

Gulp.

It starts out tolerable. The heel and the area around the toes. I am pretty okay with that. I can sit still in my massage chair and still look like a normal, functioning member of society.

The problem comes when she approaches the middle of my foot. The arch. The sensitive area. The forbidden zone. My TICKLE spot.

I try to stay calm. Every single time I tell myself that this time will be different. I have birthed four children for goodness sake. I can certainly take someone rubbing the middle of my foot with a freaking sponge.

And then she does.

I jump. Sweat is actually gathering on my upper lip. My heart is racing. I try mind over matter. I will NOT look like an idiot. AGAIN. I will NOT make a spectacle.

But after about…….1.3 seconds….the wheels come off. I can’t control it any more. Here we go. AGAIN.

Now I am squirming, bouncing, laughing and praying. Praying that this ends quickly. I jerk my foot out of her hand. Then I put it back. I’m sorry, I say to her. It won’t happen again. But we both know that it will.

Why don’t I just ask her to stop? Just skip this part? CAUSE MY FEET ARE ATROCIOUS. And I am an adult. That and it is hard for her to understand the words that are coming from my mouth with all the swearing.

Please don’t misunderstand me. I am officially out of control. People stop what they are doing to stare. It is ridiculous. It is like someone’s holding me down and tickling my feet. I am flopping in that chair like a fish and the only thing that keeps me from falling to the floor is the fact that she is holding my foot.

At this point I am just trying to NOT kick her in the face. I look around the room and absolutely no one else is working. They are all looking at me. I think they must be concerned that I am having a seizure. Then I contemplate faking a seizure.

And just like that, it is over. I slump into my chair, exhausted. My feet will live to see another day.

The things we do for beauty. I was tortured. I am pretty sure she was laughing at me. I actually paid the lady. I even TIPPED her!

Here’s a tip lady, NEXT TIME SKIP THE SPONGE.

See ya in a month? Okay great!

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