Slippery Feet

My first day of unemployment began yesterday. I woke up, realized I had nowhere in particular to be, and commenced drinking a pot of coffee. By 10am, I was already bored. I decided that I needed to go indulge myself. An hour later, I found myself in the city receiving a pedicure from a woman named "Stephanie."

I don't know what it is about getting treatments like this, as I almost never do them.
A) They're too expensive
B) I'm incredibly ticklish and it's not the least bit relaxing.

Both of these facts proved true yesterday when "Stephanie" talked me into getting something else other than they're generic pedicure. "Ohhhh...but your feet are so dry. You need, 'The Buff.'" Apparently during 'The Buff,' (you have to read this with cymbals crashing in the background), you get your feet placed in these hot bags of paraffin wax, tea cozies placed overtop of them, special "foot masques" and your feet massaged. My eyes lit up when I realized there was no going back. I started to tell myself, "You just lost your job. Either you get exfoliated, or you get drunk." So "Stephanie" won.

From that point on, it was kind of not cool. Apparently I was too tall for her tub and she had to push my chair back as far as it would go. Still, my legs cramped up from holding them funny. And why, when you get pedicures, do they just not get that you're so ticklish that it physically hurts? I kept squirming and jumping and my face was contorting just trying to get myself into a zen place. I almost kicked her in the face! But no, "Stephanie" just kept buffing away, laughing at the torment spread across my face.

It's like trying to take a yoga class in New York. How do people do it? All I can hear are cabs honking outside and feel the building shaking from trains underground. Plus you're in a room with dozens of sweaty strangers who can all contort themselves in ways that you are clearly not equipped. By the fifth time the teacher tries to fix me, I'm already snapping at her, "I can't do a downward facing dog! I've accepted that! Just take your mitts off me!"

I digress.

About an hour later, I realized this was not a normal pedicure. I had been talked into one of the more expensive packages, being the stupid sap that I am. When it was finally complete, my ass was asleep and my feet were so oily and lotioned that I was slipping out of my flip flops. When I had paid my ridiculous bill, and got outside into the 90 degree heat, the paraffin wax "Stephanie" had used was now dripping down my legs. I made it uptown to my friend Dave's apartment, (also recently unemployed) and I had managed to pick up every scrap of dirt the city was willing to get rid of. All of it went straight for the oil on my legs and stuck. When I got to Dave's and took my flip flops off, the bottoms of my feet were black....and still oily. His cat wouldn't even come near me.

Do not be lulled in to their Siren ways. Ignore the magical promises of what 'The Buff' can add to your life. All you really wanted was for someone to touch your gross feet and be done with it. There's no foreplay with 'The Buff.' They're just poking you with hot instruments and calling it love.

Stay strong and bring a pair of treaded flip flops.