Thursday, April 22, 2010

They are everywhere I want to be

I took a break from worrying about my son and his road trip to go get a pedicure earlier this evening - heh, I don't really worry about him, but we keep in touch by txt.
Y'all know I've said I'd spend my last dollar [well, yeah, last $25.00] on a pedicure before I'd buy food ....
So it's busy, but not too busy in the nail salon. Mostly semi-older [my age] women trying to beat the rush of tomorrow. It's prom night here tomorrow so likely all nail salons will be bustling with 17 and 18 year olds. eek
Anyway, the woman next to me lifts up her feet to show her friend how well they are healing ....
huge, bulbous, discolored blisters and bruises on both her feet.
Was she a runner? Had she been in some sort of accident.
I inquired since she was beginning to discuss it with another woman across the aisle....
Not a runner - no sports - no accident ----- per se.
She had a date and wore these tiny cute little shoes...
Upon saying this she gives us all some kind of look as if to expect understanding.
I looked around.
I possess no such understanding.
Before I could stop myself, I said. You hurt your feet because of shoes?
Why didn't you take them off?
Oh, honey, you know how hard it is at our age to get a date. I'm not going to lose one by wearing ugly shoes or complaining that my feet hurt.
I repeat.
I possess no such understanding.
Within the next dozen sentences I was removed from the conversation.
The look on my face of not understanding was obvious.
Perhaps was also the look of disbelief.
I go to get pedicures because I like my feet.

They like me. [Even in the world of don't drink don't smoke what do you do, it's not that hard to get a date that I'd commit human sacrifice, albeit a foot at a time].

My feet pretty much stay with me all the time and take me everywhere I want to go.

I wouldn't even think of trading them in.

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