For The Love Of God … Zip It Already!

I recently treated myself to a pedicure because A. I needed to relax, B. I needed a new color on my toes, and C. it is summertime and pedicures are must in order for your feet to not look like a hot, disturbing mess. I personally feel like I’ve been running in fast forward for the past two months. And when you treat yourself to something like a manicure, pedicure, massage, facial … which normally isn’t a cheap thing unless you score some redic Groupon or LivingSocial deal … all I want to do is shut out the world, turn off my phone/emails, and perhaps catch up on the mound of fashion mags growing in my bedroom.

So I go to the salon, pick out the color for my toes strategically (meaning I was looking for something a little outlandish but still didn’t want to go outside of my comfort zone … a.k.a. anything having to do with the color pink). I meet the dude who would be giving me my pedicure, who seems bubbly and nice enough. He sets me up in my chair, makes sure I’m comfortable, places my handbag in a safe spot, asks me if I would like a magazine or if I would prefer to play with my phone, asks me if the water feels good … so far so good, right?

So there I am … feet chillaxing in a tub of warm, bubbly water that feels ah-mazing, reading an article about Ellsworth Kelly in the latest, or I’m pretty sure the latest, edition of W Magazine (my fav), phone in my handbag far away from apps, emails and text messages, and really just about to dive head first into relaxation land when … ugh. Balls.

The dude giving me my pedicure sits down at my feet and starts removing my old polish color … which actually was quite relaxing in itself. And just as I was about to let my mind be filled with nothingness … this happened: “Wanna hear some good news?” said the man giving me my pedicure. Umm, come again? Like the relaxing record screeched to a halt at that point in time. Do I wanna hear some good news? Hmm I mean good news is good news, and I’m not a bitch (even though I could see how it may seem like I might be … but I promise you I have all of the best intentions … usually). So I decided to humor this kind gentleman … “who doesn’t like good news … lay it one me,” I said … making it clear that I just wanted to get back to my nerdy art article by letting my eyes wander back down to my mag immediately. “My wife and I just found out we are having a little boy today!” Ugh. Balls … AGAIN.

Not trying to sound insensitive, and I get that the dude was jazzed about finding out he is having a son … that is some major stuff … but really? I would probably want to shout it from the rooftops if A. I actually liked kids and B. instead of finding out I was having a little boy found out that someone was gifting me an entire Helmut Lang wardrobe for the winter. I mean for the love … I don’t care for children unless I’m related to them in some way, shape or form and even then sometimes it is questionable. I’m 25 … I don’t really have to enjoy kids right now … so therefore I ride with how I am feeling. Of course if one is in front of me and isn’t a bratty pain in the ass I will “ooh and ahhhh” all the day long smiling my face off until my cheeks throb … but honestly, if I don’t have to interact with them, my life is a slightly happier place. But I digress.

So I humor the guy because I can literally feel his excitement radiating from his bones, “oh my goodness, how fantastic … you both must be so excited … congrats … AHHHHH!” Once I put in my congratulatory cheer, I immediately dove back into my magazine and tried to regain any sort of relaxation I may have lost. But no … he kept going. He gave me maybe 10 minutes of serenity … and then kept enlightening me about his soon-to-be son. It was cute … it really was … but apart of me kept thinking, “yes self, you would be the one to get this dude who just found out he was having a son and his world is on fire with happiness and now he just wants to shout it from the rooftop … but doesn’t have a rooftop … he just has me.” Poor, little old me, who just wanted to let the world melt away as a fashion magazine swallowed her whole.

I was giving every sort of polite social cue IMAGINABLE to let this guy know I didn’t feel like chatting, but he just wasn’t getting the memo. And I hate those women who are blunt and are just like, “yeah … I’m not interested in your conversation today … sorry.” Ew. Seriously … how tacky. As annoyed as I was, I would rather politely humor this dude and let some of my relaxation fall by the wayside than act like snobby, privileged bitch who thinks she has the right to treat people like they don’t matter just because we are paying them to perform a specific cosmetic service. It’s called human decency.

So here is my bottom line. I hate talking to people in general … let alone when I am trying to relax. I think that is why I should stick to massages because God dammit if someone tried to strike up a conversation with me while I was getting my massage on … I would probably smack a bitch. Those things are too expensive and too rare in my life to let it be ruined by mindless chatter. I am good friends with a few people I let perform cosmetic type services to my body, like the girl who dyes my hair. She has been dying my hair for almost five years now, so when I go in there … all we do is chat … which is FINE … we are friends. When I walk into a foreign salon and just want one service done and know I probably won’t return again for a very long time … leave the conversation at the door, okay?

Am I the only one who hates talking to strangers performing services at salons? Like let me live in my own thoughts for an hour or so … for the love of God. I’ll tell you my name, what I do, what I want done, what my vision is, how old I am, what I like to drink … but that is about it. If you are trying to get personal … send me to someone else. The good news is my pedicure looks fantastic. The bad news is … I really didn’t get to relax as much as I wanted to … which is a bummer. I’m not the girl who gets a pedicure once a week, once a month even … I go when I need to absolutely slow my roll and relax. In situations like these, I try to look for the silver lining … and the only thing I could come up with here was at least he wasn’t talking about depressing drivel like how his pet iguana went missing last night and all about the search and rescue mission that occurred. Right? At least this was about something positive? Right … ?


Ps. A very special congrats to the dude who gave me my ultra fantastic pedicure today along with his wife on their son-to-be!