I feel pretty

For the record, I do not normally post pictures of my feet on the Internet (or anywhere else, for that matter).  This is indeed a first.  I just wanted to show off my pretty, pretty toenails:

Even two-year-old Matthew liked them.  He squatted down on his haunches for a closer look.  He then surveyed his bare, undecorated toddler nails, and looked back at my feet.  “Cool,” he said.

I quite agree.  See, I haven’t had a pedicure or a manicure in almost seven years.  The last one I had was the morning before my wedding.  Most of the time, I suffer with bland unpainted nails and ragged cuticles.  This is all the more true since having kids; it takes enough time to maintain their nails, let alone get to mine.  But my sister-in-law gave me a gift certificate for a pedicure for Christmas, and so I have rejoined the club of People Whose Nails Look Nice.

The whole experience was lovely.  I mean, just sitting for an hour was bliss in and of itself.  It is not something I normally do. To be more precise, it’s not something I normally let myself do.

Let me cite an example: one evening last week, as my hubby was relaxing on the couch with his laptop and a glass of wine, I was running hither and yon putting in laundry, organizing the mail, cleaning out my wallet.  At one point, I sat down on the edge of the couch. “Okay, what’s the next task I can do?” I wondered aloud.

He looked at me.  “How about sitting and relaxing for a bit?”  he asked.  I stared at him with utter incredulity, as if he’d just uttered some particularly noxious heresy,  then sprang up to reorganize the desk area.

But he’s right, actually.  I do need to force myself to rest.  It’s darn hard to do, though.  I think moms in particular fall into that trap of go-go-go, partly because we are so good at feeling guilt-guilt-guilt.  But we all deserve a little rest.  More than that, we all need a little pampering now and then.

So yes, the ruby nails are nice, but in a way, the downtime at the salon was even nicer.  I got to stick my feet in a whirlpool tub, read Glamour magazine, and enjoy the novel experience of someone else doing something for me.  The manicurist and I chatted about her native Vietnam, about learning English and missing her mom.  And I feel pretty and refreshed, for a change.

As Matthew would say: Cool.

4 responses to “I feel pretty