Feet

This weekend's weather has been glorious.  Blue skies and all of the hot weather that you can stand.  For those of us who are a little bit on the "fluffy" side...we are already whining about what we already know is coming.  Months and months of Hades-lite weather.  Yee haw. 

A few weeks ago...when the first daffodils were peeking out of the ground and it was possible to go outside without a coat...everyone in the southeastern United States rescued feet from socks and shoes and put them in flip flops as God intended.  Everyone wanted to be outside judging by the line at the GooGoo Car Wash that was ridiculous, the ballfields that were packed out and the garden centers at Home Depot, Lowe's and WalMart that were in full swing. 

It was also when we got the reminder e-mail about pedicures.  I'm so not kidding.  It used to be the "no white shoes before Easter" memo...but times have changed.  Here in the South, it is apparently some kind of zoning law that every strip center has to have a nail salon.  If not, it sure seems like it.

Just as it is unnatural to walk around with shoes on when it is ridiculously hot, it is equally awful to experience the first viewing of people's feet in their natural state.  All of those months of being shoved into shoes and virtually ignored (along with the leg hair that requires deforestation) is in a word...nasty. 

However, bringing them into the light of day without hiring professional help is like taking something store bought to a covered dish dinner at the church, forgetting to send thank you notes, or wearing white before Easter or after Labor Day.  It's just tacky.

"Tacky"...the ultimate insult for a Southerner to hurl.  It is almost never followed by "bless her heart."  The latter follows something that someone is either unaware is appalling or simply cannot help.   Being "tacky" usually gets tossed out there when someone should know better or refuses to follow generally accepted Southern practice.  Having an unfortunate nose cannot be tacky...as it cannot be helped, bless her heart.  Wearing a tube top and flip flops to a meeting at the bank or showing too much cleavage at a social function...is tacky.

So are unmanicured toes.  Down here, anyway.

I personally love getting a pedicure.  They sit me in a massage chair and put my feet in warm bubbling water.  Then everything is trimmed, buffed, scraped, oiled, massaged, painted, and dried.  The only part that I don't like is when the little guy who does my feet says:

"You come more often.  You no wait so long next time.  Feet crusty.  Could get more off but take too long.  You wear shoe and feet not be crusty.  I scrape two pound off feet.  You no wait so long next time."

Yeah...yeah.  Okay, I tip well...just for the weight loss alone.

I think that some people who don't live down here might think that we are a little shallow about this.  Well, seeing as we wear sandals or flip flops ten months a year...I don't think so.  To me, getting a pedicure is a public service.  I figure that if I can keep my fellow citizens from gagging over my lack of personal maintenance...then this is the least I can do.

Because, honey, they'll tell you if you cross that line.  Southerners hold a lot in out of politeness or respect...but if your toes look gruesome...someone will sure enough let you know.  Sometimes it might even be in a nice way.  But if they don't know you...they might say, "You ain't from around here, are ya?"

Now that Spring has sprung...get yourself into one of those awesome chairs and just prepare yourself for "the lecture" if it has been awhile. 

Just tip well.