It seems a small thing. The care of those strange-looking, very necessary appendages, feet.
It was not on our minds when, at ages eighteen and nineteen, we rushed off in the heat of lust and starry-eyed optimism to elope. Toe compatibility. Now as senior citizens, after decades of marriage, it is a point of discussion.
My husband and I indulge ourselves in the luxury of monthly pedicures. Years ago we were gifted His and Hers Pedicures by a friend. I think it was a joke gift to see if my husband would do it. We tried it out. Oh my. The soothing feeling of having tired feet and legs massaged is like lying on a warm beach with ocean waves caressing your legs, an hour in heaven. We were hooked. It took a few appointments to find the right nail tech/massage therapist for each of us, but we came upon perfect matches and have stuck with them for years. Amy is my lady and Kathy takes excellent care of my husband’s feet. He has beautiful feet, like very large baby feet, soft and clear. Kathy points out his feet could be models. He wears socks and shoes always. My feet, in contrast, are gnarly. Because I have bunions, I go barefoot unless leaving the house and then I usually wear sandals exposing my feet to the elements. Poor Amy must use the cheese grater tool to peel the callouses off mine.
I have my nails painted but he eschews such frippery. The ladies try nearly every time to talk him into adding color causing laughter all around. His treatment is done before mine, so he walks next door to Starbucks and buys a mocha that he brings back to share as my nails dry. After our appointment, we are relaxed and feel pampered.
It sounds perfect but…the incompatibility comes because my nails grow quickly so I’m ready for a trim every four weeks; his grow slowly and he can go seven or eight weeks. I know I could trim my nails myself as I used to do, but I’m spoiled. We compromise because we like to go together. My nails are usually long enough to climb trees by the time we go in and my heels are akin to horse hooves. My husband needs a light trim. Who would have dreamed that a simple self-care task would become an issue for monthly discussion?