Last night, I fell in love.
Okay, not really. But for a fleeting moment I considered asking this man to run away with me. Sure, he was twenty years my senior. Sure he spoke little english. Sure he was Vietnamese and probably wouldn’t pass as Foxy’s father. But after the pedicure he gave me, I felt like I needed to cook him a hot meal or bake him a batch of cookies or something.
I decided to try out the new nail salon near my house. My mani/pedi was about five dollars more than I am used to paying, but it was well worth it. The pedicure chairs were unique, with a basin instead of the standard jetted tub. The massage function was high tech and I was able to soothe my aching back for a full hour. The girl who did my nails was super friendly and we chatted about, what else, my pregnancy.
But it was the pedicure, oh that sweet pedicure, that secured my spot as a faithful customer! I loved the way Fred, that’s what I’ll call him, rubbed sea salts into my tired legs. He expertly filed away my nails. I loved the foot massage he gave me at the end. He took his time rubbing the harsh winter out of my legs. And he carefully rubbed each.individual.toe. But the thing that really moved me, was when he casually clipped the few stray hairs on my big toes. That’s something I normally do in the privacy of my own bathroom, but now that reaching my feet has become an Olympic event, I was happy that he saw to the tiniest of details without my saying a word.
As I sat under the nail dryer, I noticed the business card read “Service is our #1 Priority” and I believe it to be true. I’ve never met a friendlier staff at a nail salon. And I’ve never met someone that would trim the hairs on my toes.