Happy Feet

We were supposed to go out to dinner. My better half was out of town and my daughter and I had a date at a local seafood restaurant. I had the Groupon ready to go when I got the call from my firstborn telling me that her stomach was on the fritz and she didn't think it was up to a big dinner. Feeling a little rejected (not to mention bummed out about having to cook), I sucked it up and told her not to worry, we'd do it another day.

That's when she offered me an alternative. After a rough day at work, she was craving a little pampering and wondered if I might like to join her at the nail salon where we could indulge ourselves in a couple of pedicures.

My love/hate relationship with pedicures is well-known in my family. I love the idea of making my feet look pretty but I feel funny having strangers coming at my sensitive toes with sharp, metal objects while they jump to conclusions about my lack of personal hygiene. I don't know how anyone else feels but the first time they used one of those callous scrapers on me, I thought I would die of embarrassment. (Does anyone else have shavings that resemble something under a woodworker's bench? Of course they don't.)

So, I had two choices. I could make myself a sandwich and wait for Project Runway to entertain me or I could go spend a little time with my daughter even if it meant risking a barrage of whispered commentaries directed at the sorry state of my feet.

As you might guess, I opted for the latter. As soon as I got in that fabulous massage chair and dipped my toes in that toasty foot bath, most of my apprehensions disappeared. The girl working on me looked like she was still in middle school but she tackled my tootsies like a pro. Both my daughter and I decided to go for the spa pedicure (what's another $7?) which included a sugar scrub and a hot (and I do mean hot) parafin soak. As for the dreaded callous scraper - my teenage friend said I didn't even need it!

Forty-five minutes later, after solving the problems of the world while enjoying a relaxing back massage, we walked out with the prettiest, softest, happiest feet in town. We headed home, found some leftovers in the fridge, and tossed off a few catty comments on the latest Project Runway dramas. . .I mean, fashions.

Reconnecting with my kid, sharing a guilty pleasure, AND getting a bit of pampering? I'd give up a seafood dinner for that any day.