I need a pedicure. I use the word 'need' to suggest that that my health, rather than my happiness, is dependant upon me getting a pedicure. As far as polish goes, both of my big toes have a jagged splash of color that begins 1/4" from the cuticle. Oh, and the other eight toes? They've decided to go au naturale. Or maybe I should say they've shed their coats in favor of air and sunshine; they're happier, but I'm not. I just have ugly-looking toes.
And the general condition of my feet is a cross between a hobbit (minus the hair) and a reptile (minus the green color). My decision to only wear tennis shoes in the gym is evident in the subtle, painless blisters and discolored markings along the sides of my feet. The most remarkable lines across the top of my feet tuck neatly between my first and second toes, as if to highlight my nail polish neglect. I can thank my Rainbow-brand flip flops for those lines. The other markings stay well hidden when my shoes are on. My shoes are good at keeping secrets.
The closest thing I've come to foot therapy in Hong Kong was a foot massage in Thailand. Even then, the young Thai woman looked frightened when I took off my shoes. It was like the time I ate mysterious crab dip in high school and broke out in thousands of hives-- to the point that I almost had hives on hives. I went to the family clinic near my house and as soon as I removed the beautiful green paper gown I was afraid the doctor would leave a human-shaped cutout as he escaped through the door. Luckily, there was no door for the Thai masseuse to run though. She calmly got up, got a warm bucket of soapy water and tried to wash off my flip flop lines. Much to her astonishment, they didn't come off. I half-smiled and shrugged my shoulders. For the next 30 minutes we both tried to ignore the condition my feet were in.
The only thing between me and happy/healthy feet are three midterms and a trip to Vietnam. I might even add a few tan lines to my feet in Ho Chi Minh City. Then the polish will look really good and divert attention away from those blisters. After that I might even consider reflexology. And I can rest assure the reflexologist won't run.
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You know that the poor condition of your feet only saddens me. Paint your toe nails. Get a pedicure. You know you'll feel better.
We're going to 40 acres fest! I have my Bubba Keg full of wine, babe. You'd be proud, if only kind of. I'm hanging out with the girls tomorrow night, so if you call early enough, you'll be able to talk to us all. Well, talk to me. Shriek with them.
Love.
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