At 25-years-old it’s likely surprising that I’ve never had a pedicure. Not even before my wedding. You see, my land skis are ticklish as-all-get-out. Just the thought of someone thinking of touching my feet makes me want to kick them in the face.
I used to be ticklish all over–my legs, certain parts of my back, etc. But then I learned how glorious a professional massage is, and I got over that shit right quick. I love, love, love a massage, but forget getting anywhere near my tootsies, it aint gonna happen. Ok, it did happen once–the masseuse promised me that I’d enjoy it (wrong) and I told her I did (lie). Never again, I know myself.
But my toetalons need some TLC, so tomorrow I’m getting a mani/pedi for the first time in a quarter of a century.
I might also be going because I’ve become really obsessive about my appearance lately. I’m in an uncharacteristically jealous frame of mind, and have been for the past three or four weeks. I keep thinking I should get a self-help book on how to get rid of the green-eyed monkey on my back, but then I get sidetracked comparing myself to thinner, prettier women I’m friends with on Facebook.
And then there’s my need for a hobby. I’ve never really had a hobby and I can never think of anything I’d want to spend time working on repeatedly, so the search continues. Whenever I get in one of these depressing spells I always toy with the idea of graduate school because I want to go back (in theory).
