I wrote self-righteously on this very blog about how I had never had a pedicure and never would. I didn't get why people spent money on them.
Hmm. But look how pretty. In thinking about it, I submerged a girly side to me for a long time. On fire crews and later trails and wilderness, it was more about being able to keep up and not be judged for being good "for a girl." Nope. I wanted to be the lead pulaski person, the person people wanted on the other end of a crosscut, the ranger who could hike miles and miles with a seventy pound pack. In fact, being a girl was a liability, because you had to do better than the guys sometimes,or face hearing something like, "I knew this would happen if we let girls on the crew." Over the years we had criers, whiners, and the good ones. I always wanted to be one of the good ones.
I still would rather spend $25 on gear, but it's kind of fun to have pretty nails. My feet reach tremendous heights of ugliness during the summer season. I've had toenails fall off, calluses, blisters, you name it. That can extend to most of my appearance; though I wouldn't say I'm ugly like my feet, I do shove my hair under a cap and go. On one occasion, years ago, a scruffy character came up to me and Deb in the Rod and Gun Club. "When's the last time you wore makeup?" he demanded. "You girls must work for the Forest Service!"
Now that I don't have to wear T-shirts soaked with transmission fluid, camo pants from the army surplus store, and a hard hat, it's kind of nice to wear a skirt now and then. And have a pedicure. It's not betraying my non-girly girl status, I don't think.