Facial, schmacial

Ok, so visit número dos to the salon was for facial time.  I was pretty excited.  I scheduled it for Saturday morning when I’m usually cleaning the house.  Instead of all that scrubbing, I left a ‘to do’ list for the kiddos and high tailed it put the door to be pampered.

When I got there, my esthetician, Sherri, took me back to a dimly lit room where soft music was playing and told me to take my clothes off.  WHOA Sherri, we just met and I don’t play that way!  (Not that there’s anything wrong with that. 😉  I still  love Seinfeld!)  Now, I’ve had a few massages before and I know most people swear by them, but I can not do the whole get naked with a stranger while they rub on you thing.  It ain’t happening.  I think she read my panic and explained it was really only necessary from the shoulders down for the oils and lotions and such.  Ok, Sherri, but nothing in the swimsuit area, ok?

As the facial started, it was going fine.  I really liked the soft music and someone else pampering me for awhile.  I was beginning to think that I might make this a regular experience, clothes off and all…when it happened.  Sherri popped a zit on my face.  Hi, my name is Kerry, I’m 36, and my skin still breaks out occasionally.  I was hoping, like most of us, that zits would end with the rest of the awkward adolescent phases, but hell no, they have decided to stick around through adulthood just to mess with us.  It was a bad stress week at work and Nebraska humidity has hit full force, so those little pours are in full production mode.  Now, I get that Sherri probably does this daily, hell, hourly.  She works with the face, she knows better than anyone that zit happens, but I was mortified.

She finished the facial, and I got dressed.  As I exited the room to leave, she, politely, explained to me some products I could use for breakouts and thanked me for coming it. It was hard to look her in the eyes.  It was my own walk of shame.

Facial, schmacial….. I think I’ll just stick to the pedicures.  Has it been four weeks yet?

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Why did I wait so long?

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Hi, My name is Kerry and I have never had a pedicure…until today!   I know, I know, my friends, my co workers, my neighbors (particularly the one who owns a salon) all cannot believe that I have never had a pedicure.  Well I hadn’t.  My mom was not a salon woman.  She had a cosmology license, although she never worked with it once we were born, so she always gave us our haircuts, and still did up until about a year ago.  I finally went to a salon for my own hair last year.  Yes, I said last year.  I was 35 at the time, it was time.  Plus, my mom refuses to cut my hair short, so since I wanted to try a different style, I had to step outside of the family.

Since I broke the seal on this girly, salon thing, I decided to go full speed ahead.  When my husband was looking for mother’s day gift ideas, I told him I had decided I wanted to get a pedicure.  Now, again, I’m 36 now and I’ve never had anyone touch my feet…..for a reason.  My feet are Fred Flinstone nasty.  No really, they are.  (You’ll notice that there is no before picture.  That was intentional.)  I come from ugly feet people.  Both my parents are members.  They are short and wide.  The are always cracked and dry.  Plus, I run, so my toe nails kind of, well, fall off sometimes.  I usually slap some dark color on them and I hope no one pays much attention.

When I told Peter I wanted to get a pedicure, he was thrilled.  He believes he has beautiful feet.  He makes comments on their superior qualities while he rubs lotion in them daily.  So, when he went to the salon to get the gift certificate, he went a little crazy.  He bought not only a pedicure, but a manicure, a facial and a massage.  I get to join the super girly ranks at full force!

After my last day of work for the school year, I scheduled my very first pedicure.  As I was getting started, I felt the need to explain my feet to the pedicurist, Breanna,…and apologize.  She said I was over reacting and that my feet were fine.  I think she was just being polite.  I mentioned to her that my loving husband had promised return trips in my future if she could make my stumpy clubs look human.  That put a little extra pep in her step and extra elbow grease behind her pumice actions.

Soak, scrub, rinse, scrape, scrub, rinse, pumice, scrub, rinse, soak, lotion, file, cut, trim, polish, paint and voila!  I have pretty, soft, girly feet!   Breanna was a miracle worker, truly a genius.  I was so loving every minute of the pampering and relaxing that I was sad when she said I could slip on my sandals and leave.  What???  I have to go!!!  On my way out, I asked how long between pedicures and was told most people get them redone every four to five weeks.  FOUR TO FIVE WEEKS!!!  I can’t possibly wait that long!  Momma has a new obsession!