"You want me to leave your callouses. Really?"
"Yes. I need them."
"You're sure? You don't want me to do anything with them?"
"Yes. Does that bug you?"
If you've been following this blog for the last four years you may recall a post where I proclaimed my disdain for all things girly. I didn't see the need for pedicures or manicures, I pronounced. What was the point? Well, as often happens when pronouncements are made, I found myself darkening the door of a spa and eating my words.
All of my life I have seen a great divide. There's the women who jump in lakes and the ones who won't because their hair would "smell like lake water." There's the ones who don't mind getting dirty and don't scream at bugs, and the ones who always look perfect, their hair a shiny arc down their backs. There's some crossover, but not a lot. If you want to reach the top of a mountain or get down a river, that doesn't leave a lot of time to spend in front of a mirror. The wilderness beats you up, gives you scars from when you slid down a slope, lines your face, tangles your hair.
We're all in this together and I don't judge women who are different from me (but please stop the screaming at bugs. Please). I know I will never be someone who goes to a spa on a regular basis. I won't have great hair (right now, it's hippie long). I still don't quite get eyeliner.
But even still. Even though I've never aspired to being someone who cares a whole lot about makeup and fashion, even though I will probably get a pedicure once or twice a decade, I have decided it's okay to visit that world now and then, passport in hand. I'll go back to where I came from the next day, but I'm a tourist in this spa, gazing at all the polish colors.
I apologize for my feet. The toenail I lost after the John Muir Trail has vanished, never to return. My feet are unlovely, hiker feet. Runner feet. Not the kind she usually sees, I'm sure.
"They aren't any worse than I saw in school," she says.
I walk out with my second pedicure ever. My toes are temporarily tamed. They almost look like other people's. Well, until you see the callouses.
|Blurry so as not to show the true beauty of these feet.|