The Fretful Mother's Blog

I’ve recently become addicted to the whole pedicure thing. I love sitting in those massage chairs and having someone pamper me from the knees down. And with the pedicure you can basically close your eyes, relax, and not have to worry about holding a conversation. This is not the case with a manicure.
A manicure involves face-to-face contact with another person. And, generally speaking, the other person does not speak English. To make matters worse, you can’t make hand gestures when you’re having the manicure. So the conversations go something like this: “What color would you like?” “Yes, thank you.” “You look like you exchanged hands with a gorilla.” “Some polka dots would be nice.” And then at the end when they tell you how much you owe, you simply hand over a fifty dollar bill and hope you get some change. The whole interaction stresses me out.
This is why I’m just sticking with the pedicures. I can pretend I’m sleeping and that I believe the guy when he tells me his name is Bill. This is much better than the 20-minute convo in which neither party can understand the other one. I’d much rather have gorilla hands than end up with bright-green nails decorated with rhinestones in some terrible miscommunication. You can never be too safe.

This entry was posted on December 28, 2009 at 9:37 am and is filed under Fear of the Day. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.