About one year ago, my husband suffered a massive stroke. Our lives were turned inside out, and upside down. We are adjusting to our new normal, and luckily for us, everyday gets a little better. As you may imagine, responsibilities for chores were reassigned. For example, I was still responsible for cooking the meals, but my husband became responsible for cleanup. I thank the good Lord, he was always able to take care of his own personal needs………..except for one. Trimming of the toe nails.
He had tried to do this chore himself, with varying degrees of failure. He asked for my help. I do not consider myself the squeamish sort, the sight of blood does not make me weak, but this was a whole other level of I Love you but……. Most of you have fathers, husbands, brothers, or male buddies. You know what I am talking about! There is something about the male toenails that, for the lack of another word are disgusting.
His nails were growing in at a phenomenal rate, and were as sharp as Ginsu knives. Getting into bed with him at night, was like sleeping with Edward Sissorhands. Something had to be done, just not by me. I suggested a trip to the nail salon.
As expected, this was not met with much enthusiasm. My husband always considered himself, a manly man. Men who had manicures or metrosexuals were always looked at with a shrug, a sigh, and a look of wonderment. He would tell me that some of his adversaries were not as aggressive as he, and would then point out, “but you know, he gets manicures”. This was supposed to explain everything.
I told him, that if wanted to continue in a happy marriage he had two choices. One, go to a Bird Veterinarian that specialized in the trimming of overgrown talons, or two visit the lovely ladies at the local nail salon. He begrudgingly chose option two.
We went there this morning. I was hoping that the place would be empty, or that maybe there would be one more guy getting some work done, but no such luck. As you ladies know, the first question asked is, “what polish do you want?” My husband looked at me in horror, “I don’t want polish!” “Not even a clear coat?” I asked. “Absolutely not!” he replied.
Unfortunately, it was a busy morning at Nails –Be-Gone, and the entire salon was filled with ladies getting their summer touch up. There were only two stations available, side by side in the center. Here is where we landed. The technician instructed my husband to put his feet in the foot bath, and turned on the massaging chair. He seemed a tad tense at first, but soon a smile stole over his face, and he whispered, “I think I could fall asleep right now, this is very relaxing.” His toes were trimmed, massaged, and buffed. They looked marvelous, in fact they looked better, he admitted, than they ever had before. He survived.
As we made our way out, he asked me if we should make an appointment now, for our next pedicure. Additionally he was wondering what the “SPA” pedicure was, opposed to the “REGULAR” pedicure he had received, and did I think the hot rock massage was as good as it’s hype. I think I have a convert.
