Loving Me

I have not been writing much, but for a very important reason. Last week I decided to treat myself to some self loving. No, not that kind of self loving; the kind where I make appointments to have different things done to my body. I had my first manicure and pedicure. I was nervous at first, but the woman was very nice and she brought me wine to drink while I soaked my feet. As she was working on my toes and massaging my legs she mentioned something about a back massage and I thought, holy shit, this really is a full service salon! I then realized that she was prompting me to push the buttons that activated the chair that massages my back and oh my god. Those chairs are wonderful. I am tempted to go back and ask how much to sit in the chair without the manicure/pedicure. I think that it was worth it but I doubt I’ll go back anytime soon. I am far too rough on my hands and feet to keep them polished. I’ve already broken two nails working in the yard.

The next step was a haircut and color. My split ends had been driving me crazy and I had felt constantly inclined to just do the ponytail look. The woman who worked on my hair was young and funny. She too had been through hell, Catholic school, so we traded stories. I had some highlights put in and while I sat she went to Starbucks and bought me a mocha. Then she refused to let me pay for my drink so I kept trying to repeat it in my head so that I could add it to her tip. My hair came out good, and she offered to use a flatiron on it for me. I don’t own a flatiron. I honestly don’t spend that much time on my hair but it was nice being out of the house and having an adult conversation so I told her to go for it. I was amazed at how smooth and silky my hair looked but not nearly amazed enough to believe that I should buy this expensive tool and let it sit in the bathroom collecting dust because hello! It took about an hour for her to do it. Is this normal or do women really spend that much time on their hair in the morning? As I was relaxing in the chair she accidentally tapped my forehead with the flatiron which resulted in a lovely red welt. I didn’t say anything and when she saw it she freaked out. Then she asked why I didn’t say anything and I shrugged. It didn’t hurt that bad. When it was time to pay her the price she gave me was significantly lower than what I was charged the last time I had my hair done. When I questioned the price she said that she was giving me the non-asshole rate. She claimed that she bases her prices on whether or not the client was an asshole and she had to suffer with their presence. I didn’t believe her; I think she had a bit of the guilt over the burn, but I tipped her well (remembering to add the mocha money on there) and she hugged me before I left.

I was so into the whole experience that I decided to walk down the street to a fancy salon spa that I’ve never even considered entering before. As soon as I walked in I felt ridiculous around all of these beautiful women with the fancy hair and clothes. I walked up to the counter and asked if I could possibly get a facial. I had intentionally selected the very gay man behind the counter because I thought that he would be kind and not judge me for wearing the funny paper flip flops I had been given when I had my toenails done because why didn’t anyone tell me that you don’t wear clogs to get a pedicure? He looked at me and said that they were all booked up but he could make me an appointment. I considered running out the door but I stood my ground and we talked dates and times. He suggested the facial for skin with ACNE, which made me feel just great that he had noticed the large pimple that had popped up on my chin earlier that morning.

I took my card with the date and time on it and thought for sure that I would cancel before I went back there again. My paper shoes went whisp whisp on the oh so shiny floors and I headed to the bus stop, homeward bound…

Tagged as: Hair, manicure, pedicure, self loving