I have mixed feelings about pedicures. I’ve only had one and that was this summer with my mom right after I came back from New York; so my feet were in really sad shape. Anyway, I just have a problem with sitting high up in this huge chair while the poor, lowly shop worker sits on the floor and has to play with my feet. It makes me feel like a slave owner. But then I realize that I’m paying for this and this person picked this profession. Maybe their hope for the world is that everyone would have manicured feet. Who knows.
However, even when I get past the class struggle, the girl working on me starts talking to her friend in a different language. I look over at my mother, and I know she’s thinking the same thing. They’re talking about us. They’re mocking us in an Eastern language we can’t understand. But we’re nice people, what could they be saying about us? We don’t have ugly feet. Seriously, my mother and I have very pretty feet as far as feet go. We’re not mean people. Neither of us has tripped, cursed, or made a silent fart. We haven’t done anything to cause these girls to speculate about us.
And then I think to myself, It’s not all about you, retard. Maybe they’re just shooting the shit. Either way, who cares? If I thought that my best friend were talking about me behind my back I wouldn’t be this concerned. The poor girl lives with me, she has to vent somewhere. Honestly, I really wouldn’t care if anyone I knew talked about me without my knowing. Why do I care what these girls think?
I think it’s the whole, they’re saying it in front of your face but there’s no way you could know so drive yourself crazy speculating about it scenario. But, after about 30 minutes, I get over it. I don’t like the fact that I can turn a pedicure into a complete nonexistant mind game between me and some random girl.
