Mom Wants A Diabetes Cure

Monday, August 13, 2007

What Does A Korean Pedicure and A Salad Have In Common?

To me, Korean nail salons were the stuff of legends. Cheap, beautiful nail jobs were what I knew of them. I had my first experience at one while I was in Jersey.

Jessica and my stepmother were with me and they were both placed in pedicure chairs while I pulled up a seat near Jessica as I waited for my turn.

I was watching The View when Ruby waddled over and started sniffing my feet. Aw, fuck...just what I need. I was wearing flip flops so as not to ruin the impending polish job, so they were vulnerable to this wet, nasty assault by an ugly Pug.

I gently nudged her away, but she kept coming back to me, this time sniffing my leg. Ugh.

My stepmother's pedi was finished and I took her seat. Thankfully Ruby the Pug couldn't reach me there. The pedi-ist started off by soaking my tootsies while I set the chair to vibrate, and massage. I read a year old magazine and relaxed.

The pedi lady returned and began her work. She spoke to her fellow pedi-ist in Korean.

And then she spoke to me.

Let me tell you that I get an anxiety attack when I have to speak to someone with a heavy accent. I want so badly to understand what they're saying and I make a point to listen really hard. But, I get panicked when I can't understand them and have to make them repeat what they say. In fact, I make Jeff call in Chinese food orders because I refuse to speak to the heavily accented order taker especially when they read back the order to make sure they have everything. For all I know, they could be reading back the words to the Star Spangled Banner, and I'll answer "Yes, the order sounds right."

So she says what I hear as:


I panic and say:

"Uh, Yes!" and nod my head stupidly.

She looks at me and realizes I didn't understand a word she said, so she takes matters into her own hands and pulls out a cheese grater-like contraption.

She runs it along the bottom of my foot, but I don't feel a thing as I continue reading my magazine.

I happened to look again at what she was doing and saw something that kind of threw me.

There shavings of my calluses that reminded me of the parmesan cheese shavings I grate over my salads with a potato peeler.

I was fascinated by the resemblance, yet grossed out all at once.

I don't think I'll be having parmesan shavings on my salads anytime soon....if ever again.


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