(Abby and I went to get pedicures this weekend. She left laughing, mostly because I left crying…)
Little did I know
When I sat down in that chair
That I’d have a CUREless pedi
When I walked out of there.
I knew that there’d be trouble
When the man sat at my feet
And roughly grabbed neglected toes
As I sat nervous, in my seat.
Every word a whisper
As he mumbled to his friend
A language foreign to my ears
But a clear message it did send.
It was obvious he was speaking
Of the condition of my toes
I may not have understood his words
But a woman always knows.
Maybe that’s the reason why
His hands were extra rough
Why he snipped at skin and calluses
And if that weren’t enough
Each time that I would grimace
Every time I’d utter, “ow!”
He’d look at me with a shameless grin
And say, “That better now?”
But no, it wasn’t better
As He pried and pulled and poked
His tools more like instruments
And me? The inside joke.
Each time he brought my foot out
Of the warm and soothing water
He’d slam it down to do his work
Like a farmer off to slaughter.
The massage button on my chair
Would do no good today
The tension in my shoulders
Too strong to keep at bay.
Pedi’s should be relaxing
That’s why they’re pediCURES
But I found myself extremely tense
How much more could I endure?
Finally, the cutting done
He wrapped me in warm towels
As if to soothe the damage done
The CURE would begin now.
But suddenly he walked away
Said someone else would come
And polish on the color
That would turn the pain to fun.
I sat there waiting patiently
The wet towel growing colder
Thirty minutes came and went
I felt myself grow older.
“Does anyone know that I am here?”
I asked my toes’ offender
“Two minute” was his one reply
In a voice all but tender.
I watched the hands move on the clock
Two minutes came and went
My toes, still feeling unCURED
My patience fully spent.
Two minutes turned to six
And went from six to ten
I flung the cold towel off my legs
My resolve strong, and then
I simply put my unCURED feet
Back into socks and shoes
I walked up to the counter
And sang my unCURED blues.
I was hoping for some sympathy
For what I had endured
Condolences and a free pass
Or a deep discount, for sure.
But that’s not how it all played out
I paid and left the scene
With an appointment made for Monday
To bring me back again.
The moral of the story?
I can’t say that I have one
Except avoid rough pedicurists
Who leave your feet CUREless and undone…
