My first pedicure
Ok I know what you are thinking of me, right this very moment after reading the heading. I am NOT gay. I am happily married with a wonderful woman. I am NOT a metrosexual either (I don’t use cosmetics or creams). I am just a normal heterosexual guy who happened to have badly cracked heels. So bad that it started resembling the terrain of the Kalahari. And the pain forced me to take this extreme step. Pedicure.
So I went to my barber shop ( I don’t like to call it hair styling salon) who also happened to give a manicure and pedicure amongst many other things. I choose to go to this joint, not because it has a fancy name; ‘Wild West’, there’s nothing wild or western about it; but because it is run by a Srilankan Tamizh (not LTTE) and the barbers (hair stylists) speak fluent Tamizh (popularly spelt ‘Tamil’), my mother tongue, albeit with a singsong Srilankan accent. In addition they also run good Tamizh programmes on TV, which I hardly get to see at home since my wife is a Sindhi.
So I walk in to the tune of Tamizh songs in the background, and tell him ‘usual’. Half way into the hair slaughter, I tell him in a low desperately-trying-to-sound-nonchalant tone that I want a pedicure, hoping he won’t notice my embarassment. He said “Saar you want manicure also?”, loud enough for the entire shop to hear. Talk about being discreet. I said ‘No’. “Saar, but you have dead skin on your fingers also”. I looked at him pleadingly and said “No only pedicure. That will do”.
He finished with the haircut and said “Saar, go upstairs. James will do the pedicure”. I asked who he is. He said, “Saar, new fellow. Filipino.” I nodded and went upstairs, hoping the 50 minute session turns out fine.
I go up and what do I find? A half man, half woman, called James who had small tits, long straight hair and a womanish lilt to his walk. “Welcome my Priend (friend), what do you want me to do today?”. I simply said “Pedicure”, not wanting him to recognise the first thought that came to my mind on his question.
He quickly got a bucket of hot water running and directed me to a seat, which looked dangerously similar to a Dentist’s chair. I took my seat diffidently and made a feeble effort to look comfortable. He said “put your leg up on my lap my priend. Let me seeeeee.”. I put it up for examination; not so different from when you open your mouth wide open to a dentist. He tut tutted and threw a mock accusing glance at me and said “When was the last time you took a pedicure?”.
Suddenly, I was too ashamed to say ‘never’. So I lied through my teeth hoping he won’t see through it. “Ah, maybe 6 months or 7 months. Have been very busy at work. Just didn’t find time. I heard you do a good job.” That last piece of appreciation must have hit a nerve, because he got all excited and had a wide grin on his face. I was half afraid that he was going to kiss and molest me and cursed myself for what I said. But nothing happened.
He drowned my hairy feet in hotter-than-expected water and generously doused a solution of methyl alcohol (I think) which I was hoping he won’t set fire to later. After about 10-15 minutes of soaking up the legs, he asked me to place one leg on the stool in front of him. By this time, he had neatly arranged all his pedicure equipment (which by the way would give a surgeon a complex), which closely resembled torture equipments which I had seen in one of the recent war movies.
He pushed up my tracks a little, which further exposed my hairy legs and half expected him to suggest a waxing. Thankfully that suggestion never came.
He first took a rough scrubber (that’s what I call it) and scrubbed the ‘dead skin’ off my heel. A steady rythmic scrub with minimal pain. And then he started working his way up to my toes. And that’s where the tickle started. I couldn’t stop myself from jerking my feet. He sensed my ticklishness and said “Ah you have sensitive feet huh priend? Shall I tickle some more?”. I was thinking “Thank God, my wife is not here. She would have accused me of having an extra marital affair”.
After about 10 minutes, he probably sensed the scrubber was doing no good and clogged with too much skin, so he switched equipment. This one looked like a carrot grater. Just smaller in size. And he went about grating my skin and smoothing out the rough edges; occassionaly giving my leg a tickle hoping to elicit a response from me. I maintained my stony expression. I will be damned if my first extra marital affair turns out to be with a eunuch.
Once he was done with the scrubbing and grating, he switched attention to the nails. I had thankfully trimmed my nails just a week back, so it wasn’t really wild. He clipped, filed and plucked my nail and skin on all toes with weird looking equipment, that like I said, reminded me of chinese torture procedures. After about 30 minutes he said “ok priend, we are done with this leg, now show me the other”. The same procedure was repeated with the other. Complete with the tickling and coy looks.
After about approx. 1 hour, just when I was starting to lose sensation in my legs, he said the golden words “We are done my priend… hope you like it. Feel your leg. Touch. Touch and see. It’s just like a baby’s bottom.” I felt it and immediately felt like a pedophile. You don’t compare a freshly pedicured pair of feet to a Baby’s bottom! Especially when you are going to run your hands on it and seek pleasure out of it.
Nevertheless. I finally had my first pedicure. And if you haven’t had one till now, maybe you should consider. It does feel soft as a baby’s bottom!