My Indian Feet

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The last pedicure I had was last May–maybe before that. In June I had my ankle surgery, and pedicures weren’t possible.

So, I finally asked one of the moms at school for a recommendation for a pedicure.

So today, I walked through the Sears outside to find this pedicure place. I knew when I walked in that it was different, but I thought it would still be good to follow through. I wad led through a hallway to a small room where a footbath of steaming hot water was waiting.

While I soaked my Indian feet, the lady put an oxygen mask on my face. A few minutes later she returned with a hot heat pad for my neck. She sprayed a towel with lavender, and left me in the leather recliner in the dark to relax.

When she began working on my feet it was embarrassing. Imagine what almost a year of no pedicures will do to you… She spread some goo on my feet then wrapped them in plastic wrap. Meanwhile she took care of my overgrowth of toenail skin hangnails. Owwwww! I said more than once!

She went to work on the layers of hard skin on my feet. It would suffice to tell you that the poor lady was sweating when she finished. She didn’t use razor blades (which are quick and effective). Instead my pedicure was like everything else in Mexico: slow.

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