So, yesterday I got a pedicure, my first ever.
I am officially on maternity leave now, I was mostly done with the high-priority to-do list items like setting up for the baby, and cooking and freezing a boatload of meals for us. I like it when I have cute painted toenails but I can't reach my feet to do it myself at this point. Also, it just seemed like the thing to do. There are people who do this, like, weekly, and most adult women in the First World have had their first pedicure by this point in their lives, so! Off to the mini-mall.*
This place is new and clean and doesn't reek of birth-defecty chemicals. I'm reassured by their attention to single-use items and hygiene in general. The lady who takes care of me is a very sweet, very professional Asian woman named Yvonne. We talk briefly, I choose the deluxe service package that includes calf & foot massage (my dogs are tired, y'all), and pick out a nice pink enamel for my color. The whole thing takes about 45 minutes, during which I cannot shake the One-Percent, Privileged Rich White Suburban Lady A-Hole feeling that has kept me from doing this before age 37-and-three-quarters. It's WEIRD.
I have a sort of half conversation with the One-Percent, Privileged Rich White Suburban Lady next to me as we watch Family Feud (Christ that show is awful) on the flat-screen TV next to us, I read a bunch of stuff on my iPhone, I do whatever Yvonne is telling me to do, and I field the numerous questions from staff and guests about my scary-big midsection -- you can tell it makes the staff a little nervous that I'm so close to my due date. The massage was marvelous, my feet look great (they scrub off the calluses! whaaat!), I gave Yvonne a huge tip for her gentle treatment of the Pedicure Noob (and also because of Privilege Guilt -- just like the times I've gotten a shoeshine -- it's a strange feeling for a person of my low-rent background to be sitting literally higher than a service person, getting worked on, for what you know is low pay and less respect ... ugh).
Anyway. My point is: I liked the results, I am glad I tried it, but I feel oddly uncomfortable about the whole experience and it is extremely unlikely to become a habitual thing for me. I am not the Idle Rich -- I'm as 99 percent as they come -- and it's hard to imagine ever getting used to this kind of treatment on the reg.
And in conclusion: WOW, do I have to scrape to find a problem. This has been your Privileged A-Hole Report for today.
*I could make a whole post out of this, but we have noticed that the outdoor strip mall is the dominant form of commerce in the place where we live now. Each one is apparently required by local ordinance to contain the following: a taqueria, a martial-arts center, a nail salon, a tutoring place (e.g. Kumon), a fro-yo joint, and either a dry-cleaner's, a chain coffee shop, or a dental office, plus one wild card slot, which can take any form from Armed Forces recruiting center to pottery studio.
Labels: deep thoughts, demoralizing confessions, first-world problems, rare earnestness, The more you know