pedicurist 1: oh. wow. check out her feet.
pedicurist 2: *takes a look* you’ve got a tough one on your hands.
pedicurist 1: you sure i can handle this? i’ve only been 3 months on the job.
pedicurist 2: well, if you need reinforcements, i’ll help you out later.
– 20mins of vigorous foot filing later –
pedicurist 1: erm, how’s this? my arm hurts.
pedicurist 2: ooh. it still looks pretty bad.
pedicurist 1: she’s too fat to be a dancer, but her feet are hideous!
– after even more filing –
pedicurist 1: okay, i think this is the best i can do. still pretty rough.
pedicurist 2: sigh. it’s alright. i’ll take it from here.
pedicurist 2: (in english) is this the first time you’re getting a pedicure?
that was pretty much how my pedicure went this afternoon.
my friends will never understand it, but it took alot of courage to go for that pedicure. after all, i am rather ashamed of the condition of my feet. they’re ugly, deformed and calloused. if you’ve ever seen me cross my legs nervously, that’s because i was trying to hide the soles of my feet from anyone’s view, lest they see the thickened patches of skin and my attempts at removing them.
when my pedicurist took a look at my feet, i knew exactly what was on her mind. although she spoke tagalog and i couldn’t understand a word of whatever transpired between her and her colleague, it wasn’t difficult to read their body language and realise that they were disgusted.
it was supposed to be a therapeutic end to what must have been the 2 most exhausting weeks of my life as a medical student so far, but i spent a good part of that pedicure thinking about how repulsed those two pedicurists must be at the prospects of holding, filing, scrubbing, moisturising and putting nail polish on my feet.
so much for a confidence booster.
the good news is that i now have nice toenails and relatively smoother soles. the bad news is my self-esteem has been dealt yet another unnecessary blow. am i really past the whole whiny, emo, self-discovery phase of my life? guess not. what a letdown.