'Pedicures are a form of self-expression'
Before this month, I’d had three pedicures in my life, each in the eighth month of my three pregnancies. “What colour do you want?” the pedicurists asked, to which I always responded, “None. Just cut the nails and trim the cuticles, thank you, because I can no longer reach my toes to do it myself.” But, oh, I had to admit, those foot massages felt good even as I reproached myself for enjoying them.
Yes, I know. Lighten up. Enjoy the pampering! But I couldn’t. It’s almost pathological, this inability of mine to indulge for the sake of indulgence. Of course, I have no such problems when it comes to hot fudge sundaes or beach vacations. But, still, I’d reached 45 without ever having painted my toenails. I am a feminist, and to me painted toes and time devoted to pedicures have always represented the imprisonment of my mother’s generation, for whom red toes are still de rigueur. It’s an attitude (mine, that is) that, according to my pedicure-loving and equally feminist teenage daughter, is not only sad but – well – old-fashioned. These days, she tells me, pedicures are a form of self-expression.
