Ahhhhh! Thanks

I’m not one to fuss about my appearance. I don’t spend a lot of money on clothes or haircuts.

I don’t read fashion magazines that feature List-icles, short articles with How-To instructions like 10 Ways to Arch Your Brow.

But the other week, I was taken over by some sort of summer fever. I knew I would be mostly wearing sandals for months and decided to indulge in a pedicure.

OMG. Where should I start? I asked myself. I hit YELP and other online resources for places in my neighborhood that didn’t require much advanced notice and didn’t cost too much. I looked at a couple reviews, too.

I decided on a place in Lincoln Square. I made an appointment in one hour (Like I said, it was a spur of the moment impulse). I found the place to be clean and BUSY, surprisingly busy for 11:00 on a weekday morning.

There was a drying station in the front of the salon, near the register (small blowers for hands and feet), and stacks of those magazines I referred to as being full of beauty list-icles. I also observed one of the nail techs, filling up Day-Glo, jelly-like baskets with flip-flops.

Like an over-enthusiastic hostess in a Tiki lounge, a petite woman of some flavor of Asian extraction greeted me; the manager, no doubt. She laughed when I confessed I had a pedicure only one other time in my life.

She introduced me to my tech who then led me to a wail of polish colors. Considering my lack of experience, I surprised myself that I seemed to know what I wanted.

“I want red. Not orangey red, or wine colored. Dark red…”

I was led over to an oversized massage chair with a small, floor-istalled basin at the front. She instructed me to make myself comfortable and showed me how to work the controls on the massage chair while I put my feet in the basin.

I ended up turning the power on the chair off. I just wanted to focus on my feet.

She opened a plastic bag sealed kit as she began to run water into my foot tub.


One foot at a time…

I dipped one foot in the swirling water while she worked on my other foot. She removed the hard skin with a sort of pumice stone. She clipped my nails, laughing at how long they were. She put exfoliant and lotion on my lower legs and massaged my calves.

I tried not to stare at the man who was picking out polish colors and was led to the chair next to mine for his pedicure. Why shouldn’t a man enjoy this, too?

After my feet were clean and smooth, my chosen RED was applied and an odd rubber contraption was placed on my feet to create space between my toes.

A pair of flip-flops was slipped on to my feet, and I was led to the drying station.

I felt terrific!

The whole process took less than an hour, and I saw what a big difference it made in my mood and outlook.

Okay, I liked the thought of dressing my feet in summer sandals, but I found the whole experience to be consciousness-raising.

It’s so easy to take something – like your feet — for granted. We tend to give a part of our body attention when it hurts, but not when it feels good. Not often enough.

Pampering yourself seems to be a good way to train your consciousness to do those things that are good for you. It’s good to remember that a task is not completed until it is celebrated.

Whether it’s making time to do stretches in the morning or, periodically, to have a pedicure, I want to nurture good routines, including treating myself well. I’m glad I gave myself this brief retreat.

Jumping into a new habit — feet first — is no small thing.


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