Until yesterday, I was a 36 year old woman who had never had a professional manicure or pedicure.
True story.
You can weep if you want to.
Ok, now that we've had a moment to morn my lost opportunities at shininess, I can tell you that the situation has been rectified.
See, I've always been of the practical sort, and it always seemed silly to spend money on a manicure that I would ruin in 2.5 seconds flat at work. And as for pedicures, well, nobody ever even saw my feet, so why bother? Really, just a waste of money, right?
However, since I quit my job a few months ago, I've developed a fascination for girly things. RJ looked at me the other day and out of the blue said, "You really are a girl, aren't you?" Strangely enough, he meant it AND I took it as a compliment.
Anyway, the other day we were walking around the mall looking for some new running shoes for RJ. Kids were at the sitters, we had just enjoyed a relaxingthree margarita lunch, and we had nowhere specific to be for hours.
We walked by a nail salon in the mall - you know the one, every mall has it - and RJ said to me "Hey, wanna get a manicure?"
"I will if you will." I wasstill drunk enough feeling rather adventurous that day.
So in we go.
RJ marches up to the counter, ignores the sign-in sheet, and announces, "We're here for manicures and pedicures."
The lovely Vietnamese matriarch type says, "For her?" and gestures toward me.
"No, for both of us."
At this point, a small, unassuming man whom we later determined to be the owner stepped in. "We can do that," he said, with a sharp look at the other lady, who was clearly trying to cut into his profits. Ok, so apparently this wasn't a place that was used to giving manicures to men. Whatever.
After being directed to go pick out our polish - I chose a lovely shade or dark red, by the way - we sat down on the pedicure chairs. There were two chairs ready, one staffed by a young Vietnamese woman, and the other by the gentleman we had encountered at the counter. I naturally gravitated toward the young woman, and left RJ to sit down with the man as his pedicurist. Which immediately earned me the stink eye from the young lady.
Immediately a flurry of talking began. It was mostly one sided and coming from the young lady, but the gentleman would occasionally nod or make an agreeing type noise. Throughout the entire conversation, she continued to glance at RJ every minute or two, then look away quickly.
Finally the man spoke in English to RJ. "She say you look familiar somehow. Where you from?"
RJ told the man he was from the area now, had lived all over the world, and his dad is American and his Mom is Vietnamese.
Matriarch lady had also been listening to the conversation, and immediately came over to join in, abandoning her customer with 4 of 10 nails painted.
"That why you look so familiar. You look like the men from my country, but much taller and much more handsome." A giggle from the young lady who is now vigorously scrubbing the second layer of skin from the bottom of my left foot with something that looked like a cheese grater. Matriarch gestured to the young lady. "She think you very handsome." Then she turns to me. "You his wife?" I nodded. "You do not need to let him leave house without you, understand? He VERY handsome."
Was that a threat or a compliment?
"Uh, thank you?"
More rapid-fire Vietnamese from the young lady, punctuated with glances at RJ.
Matriarch translated. "Do not worry, though. She (gesturing toward the young lady) very happy with her husband."
Oh good.
I was totally worried that I would enter the Vietnamese nail salon WITH a husband, and walk out without one.
Happens to me all the time.
However, since I quit my job a few months ago, I've developed a fascination for girly things. RJ looked at me the other day and out of the blue said, "You really are a girl, aren't you?" Strangely enough, he meant it AND I took it as a compliment.
Anyway, the other day we were walking around the mall looking for some new running shoes for RJ. Kids were at the sitters, we had just enjoyed a relaxing
We walked by a nail salon in the mall - you know the one, every mall has it - and RJ said to me "Hey, wanna get a manicure?"
"I will if you will." I was
So in we go.
RJ marches up to the counter, ignores the sign-in sheet, and announces, "We're here for manicures and pedicures."
The lovely Vietnamese matriarch type says, "For her?" and gestures toward me.
"No, for both of us."
At this point, a small, unassuming man whom we later determined to be the owner stepped in. "We can do that," he said, with a sharp look at the other lady, who was clearly trying to cut into his profits. Ok, so apparently this wasn't a place that was used to giving manicures to men. Whatever.
After being directed to go pick out our polish - I chose a lovely shade or dark red, by the way - we sat down on the pedicure chairs. There were two chairs ready, one staffed by a young Vietnamese woman, and the other by the gentleman we had encountered at the counter. I naturally gravitated toward the young woman, and left RJ to sit down with the man as his pedicurist. Which immediately earned me the stink eye from the young lady.
Immediately a flurry of talking began. It was mostly one sided and coming from the young lady, but the gentleman would occasionally nod or make an agreeing type noise. Throughout the entire conversation, she continued to glance at RJ every minute or two, then look away quickly.
Finally the man spoke in English to RJ. "She say you look familiar somehow. Where you from?"
RJ told the man he was from the area now, had lived all over the world, and his dad is American and his Mom is Vietnamese.
Matriarch lady had also been listening to the conversation, and immediately came over to join in, abandoning her customer with 4 of 10 nails painted.
"That why you look so familiar. You look like the men from my country, but much taller and much more handsome." A giggle from the young lady who is now vigorously scrubbing the second layer of skin from the bottom of my left foot with something that looked like a cheese grater. Matriarch gestured to the young lady. "She think you very handsome." Then she turns to me. "You his wife?" I nodded. "You do not need to let him leave house without you, understand? He VERY handsome."
Was that a threat or a compliment?
"Uh, thank you?"
More rapid-fire Vietnamese from the young lady, punctuated with glances at RJ.
Matriarch translated. "Do not worry, though. She (gesturing toward the young lady) very happy with her husband."
Oh good.
I was totally worried that I would enter the Vietnamese nail salon WITH a husband, and walk out without one.
Happens to me all the time.
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