“Where do you get your pedicures?”
This being the question I put to several co-workers last week. About half the time the reply was the name of this salon or that. The other half garnered me such incredulous looks as if I’d asked, “Do you eat boogers?” or “Where do you perform human sacrifice?” The former acted with such revulsion! “Let someone touch my feet? YUCK!” And the latter found the question so beyond their experience I might as well have been asking about ritual murder. “Pedicures? Is that even a thing?” Their confusion and astonishment made me want to pat them soothingly and make the scary question go away.
The only reason I was asking is because I’d foolishly invited my sister to join me at a nail salon for that most girly bonding experience- the adjacent pedicure. Hey, I was scrambling for something to do which would let us talk…but in a public enough space to avoid any true intimacy. Keeping my dippy hot mess of a sister and her Lifetime channel dramatic life at arm’s length from my hard won tidy peace and happy family is necessary. Besides, I’m pretty sure she’s in no big rush to have her judgmental difficult bossypants sister all up in her biz either. Gidget was glad enough for an activity to share. In the end we met up at my usual nail place, whereupon we both sprang for the ‘spa’ pedicure and I held it together when Gidget did the “Only you, Leelee” eye roll as I caught up with Jon and asked after his family in my rudimentary Vietnamese. Ditto when I got another eye roll and condescending smirk when I said something to her about my bee meadow.
See? This is why I’ve absented myself from my crummy family for so many years. Imagine the fury I felt at being smirked at for conversing with my favorite nail tech in his native language, and being scorned for making a habitat for bees! You know, the pollinators for 75% of our fricken FOOD? But to my ignorant dipwit sister I’m an object of mirth and scorn for doing ‘weird’ shit like teaching myself Vietnamese and doing something useful like planting flowers and housing bees.
On one hand I couldn’t care less, but on the other it’s maddening to be smirked at and mocked by a stupid person. It’s like trying to deal with Trump voters. Yes, the Dunning-Kruger effect is in full force here, but it’s small solace.
So. Zero points and half a bottle of Tums to me on the topic of ‘toes’.
I had more but I’m too grouchy now.
Good night, Lovies. ~LA