One of my favorite things about going home for Christmas is knowing my nasty winter feet are going to get some attention when my mother-in-law, sisters-in-law, and I leave our ever-growing pile of kids with the menfolk for a few hours and sneak away for pedicures. I know people get manicures and pedicures all the time, but it always feels kind of fancy to me. Time with the girls, time away from the kids, and a session in one of those back massage chairs? Yes, please.
This week’s Christmas pedicure didn’t start out great. I couldn’t find the polish color I wanted, but I felt the ticking of the clock and the eyes of the nail technician urging me decide already, so I just grabbed a red. Red’s Christmasy and stuff. I knew it wasn’t a big deal, but since my feet are loved so infrequently, I need a color I really like.
I headed to my assigned chair, imperfect polish in hand, and parked my rear. I fired up the massage chair, and while the chair started pounding back, the seat started pounding my crack.
What was this? A seat massager? A seat massager with boundary issues I guess, because I need a little warning before any below the belt activity. I mean, I’m not saying I hated it. I’m in no position to turn down a massage, even when it feels like a fist pounding my tailpipe.
What could be better than getting butt-fisted while a stranger scrapes dead skin off of my feet? All of that happening while watching Toddlers and Tiaras on the nail salon television, and sitting next to my mother-in-law while we laugh about our butt play, that’s what.
That pedicure was awesome. My feet looked and felt amazing, the massage chair had an option to turn off the violating seat massage, and my polish looked great. And thanks to the crazy moms on Toddlers and Tiaras, I felt like an outstanding parent the entire time.
I can’t wait for next year!