But being pre-diabetic has made me more aware of my extremities and needing to take care of them. I think I read somewhere about bad circulation and dry skin being one of the symptoms? I could be completely wrong.
So with Lil Monster at school, Stripes and I decided to visit a local salon and have a pedicure, as previously frequented and recommended by my Mother. We called up the day before and booked ourselves in, made sure to get the cash out and prepared ourselves for a little luxury.
Hmmm, not sure that's quite what happened. Firstly, parking was a nightmare! Don't you hate it when there's a small parking section outside shops with room for maybe three cars and two cars decide they need to stretch out? Yep, right outside the salon with no way I was getting our behemoth into the small space between the two vehicles. I don't drive as much as I used to - stress, anxiety, pain, etc - and my parking skills have deteriorated. Reversing into spaces - heck yeah, I can do that. Parallel parking - well that takes a few deep breaths and a decent space.
So we drove around the block until we found a space that was relatively close and parked up. Cue the fun of getting the wheelchair out of the car and trundling over the uneven footpath to get to the shop. Stripes went ahead to check that there was room for my wheelchair and was told yeah, sure, they'd open the door wide to make sure I could get the wheelchair in.
This is a small salon - I got the wheelchair in fine, but it basically took up most of the shop floor. I took a seat to get my breath back. The owner of the store was busy on the phone; staff member one was threading the eyebrows of a client and staff member two was for us. Guess we should have confirmed that we would be having the pedicures at the same time.
I'm not sure what I was expecting - maybe I watch too much TV - but basically, Stripes sat in a salon chair whilst one of those feet massager things (that you can get from JML etc) was filled with boiling water from a kettle. Then staff member 2 added some cold water and asked Stripes to confirm the temperature was alright. In went the footsies plus some bubble bath (no word of a lie, I'm pretty sure it was just bubble bath) and the buttons were pressed so the little machine could do it's thing.
I was sat trying to make myself and the wheelchair as small as possible (mission impossible) whilst slowly roasting because they had a gas-heater turned on in the corner of the room, throwing out chunks of heat. Every time the door opened, I found myself apologising as people stumbled getting in to the salon (obviously not expecting a whacking great wheelchair to be taking up space) and were whipped in and out of the chairs at great speed. Eyebrow tinting, threading, chin waxing - you name it, it was performed as I sat alternating between watching Stripes squirming in her chair as her feet were massaged and creamed and seeing a slew of women being de-haired.
To
be honest, I spent most of the time on my phone checking Facebook and
trying not to feel like a blockage. And worrying. Because every
time Stripes had to take her feet out of the foot-spa thing, she had
to lift them onto the lady's lap. And I wasn't sure I'd be able to do
that. I have some mobility, but lifting and lowering my legs
willy-nilly is a bit of a recipe for disaster for me - when I get
tired, my feet start to drag and my legs feel like they weigh an
absolute tonne (hence needing the wheelchair) so I was dreading
having to perform leg lifts.
We
brought in our own nail varnish in case we didn't like any of their
colours - good job too as the shelf with all of their nail varnishes
on was in the corner of the store which I couldn't have got to unless
I had my crutches with me and had been prepared to hobble around.
After being slathered in all sort of creams and being lightly
pumiced, Stripes was all done with pretty green toes looking rather
spiffy.
My
turn.
We
realised there was no way I could get into the salon chair safely so
decided to do the whole thing in my wheelchair. Pulling up a
chair, staff member realised I was too high up for her to do what she
needed to do. She looked at me, I looked at her, and I realised she
expected me to either slouch or find some way to lower myself to the
right level for her. Stripes and I shared a few speaking
glances, then I realised that removing the seat pad in my wheelchair
would bring me lower so that sorted that out.
I
have really ticklish feet – part of the reason why I don’t like
people touching them – so, when she started working on my foot, I
started giggling. A touch embarrassing but I sort of expected it. She
asked me if I was aware of how dry my feet were and I said yes. Staff
member one peered over and said something to our worker in their own
language, then turned to me and said I should try moisturising them
every day as they were very dry. I said I understood and yes, that
was part of why we were here – to help me start taking care of my
feet. She then turned to her colleague and said something about a
razor – colleague said no, that my feet were too sensitive – at
which point she walked away. I felt a bit embarrassed (who the heck
needs a razor to yank off the hard skin on their feet?!) but more was
to come.
She
returned, pulled up a chair, and proceeded to talk to her colleague,
making suggestions as she worked on me, and encouraging her to use
the razor numerous times instead of the metal pumice file. So I sat,
squirmed, shifted around, did leg lifts taking my feet out of the
water, back into the water, all the while they made comments about
the mess I was making because I knocked the foot spa thing, and dead
skin etc. was all over the floor. I wanted said floor to open up and
swallow me whole.
I
got cramp a couple of times from holding my legs up for her to work
on my heel, and then, yuck, I fainted. It happens – sometimes it
like my brain needs to reset, the world starts spinning and I blank
out for a bit. Stripes is used to it – makes sure she’s the first
thing I see, reassures me that I’m fine, reminds me where I am,
that sort of thing. They were understandably worried – apparently,
from outside it can be quite scary to see as ambulances get mentioned
and people tend to wring their hands as they wonder what they can do
to help – and offered me water or tea. No thanks – I just wanted
this over and done with. More awkward shifting around in the chair
and foot placement to enable her to paint my toenails. More comments
about how dry my feet were, how much mess was caused soaking up the
overspill of water from the spa, etc. Obviously I didn’t
understand every single thing they said as I don’t speak their language. But
some words are the same, and the few comments made directly to us
made it perfectly plain what they were saying. I felt like an
inconvenience – instead of being a pampering experience, I was
exhausted, in pain, and generally feeling like if I never saw that
salon again it would be too soon.
I
know I can be over-sensitive. Hello, morbidly obese disabled woman
used to being stared at, laughed at, ignored, etc. – of course I’m
over-sensitive. But I expected more from the experience. I wouldn’t
actually have minded the cut-price foot spa if we weren’t basically
sat in the middle of the shop floor, with no privacy as people walked
in and out of the store. I wouldn’t have minded the same tools
being used on me as they were on Stripes if I had been able to see
them being washed in between times. I could care less about them
speaking to each other in their own language – I used to have
manicures done in a small salon where I communicated with my stylist
by pointing at what I wanted, nodding, grinning or shaking my head. I
just hated feeling so completely out of place. I hated feeling like
an inconvenience. Like parts of me – that admittedly aren’t
pretty – were such a freak show that they needed to be commented on
continuously.
So.
Yes to having a pedicure again. No to having one done there again. My
feet looked great – skin was smooth (or as smooth as the soles of
my feet get); my toenails looked pretty with the blood-red nail
varnish I chose. But I didn’t enjoy the experience and it certainly
didn’t feel like the pampering it was meant to be.
Saying
all of that, I did pop into that salon and have my eyebrows tinted –
quick, painless, no extraneous comments made. Maybe I really do just
have freaky feet?!
Did I mention, I bought me and Stripes a floatation tank experience from Groupon? Yeah, we might need to get cracking on booking that!
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