When you walk into your 10 AM pedi appointment (first time slot of the day, folks! no wait!) with BRIGHT my-7-year-old-actually-chose-these-for-me-and-I-love-them running gear and coffee in hand, think twice before offering the pedicurist your scummy feet while blithely announcing "I just ran 3 miles this morning, and I've been looking forward to this!" and no other information. For example, a lovely (and necessary) follow-up might sound something like "Don't worry. I definitely took a shower first."
I completely forgot that part because bliss, thy name be A Good Pedicure.
After some searching, I've found my pedicure home. Granted, the first song that came on the radio when I started soaking my piggies was "Hit Me Baby, One More Time." Ah, that took me back to ye good olde days of music. Even some Britney can't ruin my mood because this was a well earned hour of warm, bubbly water and foot rubs with some plum paisley thrown in for good measure.
(I do gravitate to the dark, dark colors for the toes. It's my (toe) jam. One time, probably out of a nervous habit of wanting to fill the silence - slash - make awkward chitchat, I asked the pedicurist's opinion about colors and she essentially said "These are colors for summer, not what you're looking at." I mistakenly listened to her so as not to keep on careening toward Awkwards-ville, and did. not. like. that. color. at. all. I never went back there.)
Someone tell me why a dark shade of purple, a solid color, is called plum paisley seeing as how it's not paisley at all. I liked the name though, and this is also a decided factor in how I choose paint colors: Sugar cookie? Check. Peacock fancy? Yes, please. Purple-icious? No m'aam.
All of this is by way of saying, a decided highlight of SpRiNg BrEaK '17 (part I) was my hour spent with my new BFF (whose name I don't know but who still gets paid pretty well to be my friend once every 4 months). I love the whole experience from the delightful smells of something like heaven when I walk in to the smooth, slippery way my feet feel when I leave, from the first moment scooching my feet down into the copper tub to the way she doesn't make me talk for the entire 60 minutes, from the way it takes me an hour to read about 12 pages because I'm so distracted by foot joy to the way my coffee tastes decadent.
I'm just a girl in need of a foot rub now and again with a little bit of polish thrown in for good measure.
I've done the manicure thing before, and it was OKAY. I've done the massage thing before, and it was NICE. But the feet have it. It took me about 10+ years of my adult life to realize this is just a part of my yearly budget. I'll eschew all manner of things that would otherwise sap my pedicure funds in favor of this one-perfect-hour treat. When I make my first million, yes there will be weekly pedicures in my life. I am pedi sure about that.