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experiences in nail salondom
Last spring, Christine "won" an afternoon of manicures/pedicures from one of our favorite profs in the public interest fellowship auction. We just got around to going yesterday.
It was great fun - except for the actual manicure part.
Now, I've never had a manicure or a pedicure before, for pretty much the same reasons I rarely buy or use makeup or have such a mental block against buying shoes that cost more than $30 for the pair - and especially for the same reason I put off going to the hair salon. A, I don't quite get the spending of money on girly frivolities; B, I have personal space issues. I've gotten over the hair salon thing as much as I think is possible, but it took figuring out that my hair really NEEDS to be trimmed regularly to look acceptable and even then I went through a number of stylists before I found one who was friendly and made me comfortable but didn't insist on endless small talk and who also LISTENED to what I said when I told her what I wanted done. (It also helps that she has the same kind of hair as me, so really gets the specific quirks of fine, thin hair.)
Anyway. Take my discomfort with having my hair handled by a stranger and multiply it by fifty when it comes to having my nails messed with. My mom has been trying to get me to get pedicures with her for YEARS.
But I was willing to give it a chance, finally. About thirty seconds into it, though, I knew I wasn't going to be won over.
First, my manicurist expressed her dismay at the length of my nails. I don't bite my nails anymore, but I keep them filed short because I think long nails look stupid on me. Since the shade of polish I chose was an incredibly neutral color, I really don't think the length of my nails mattered at all. But whatever.
She finished filing and soaking my cuticles. Then she pulled out a stick and scissors and I stupidly realized WHY she'd been soaking my cuticles. At my look of horror, she said "we must push back these cuticles, of course. But maybe we won't trim them this time."
I said, "No, let's really not." If I'd been feeling like less of a bothersome and dim-witted child, I might have also said "and I'm really not comfortable with you doing ANYTHING to my cuticles, thanks" but she was already making me feel like an idiot, so I said nothing.
She then proceeded to dig at my cuticles as though they personally offended her. I flinched at one point when she got particularly enthusiastic, and she asked if she was hurting me, but she looked annoyed when she asked it so I just said no, I was fine.
Then she picked up the scissors and started cutting! "I have to or they won't look good," was all she said. Since I've personally NEVER had a problem with the way my cuticles look, or particularly given them any notice at all really beyond being vaguely aware that they existed, I was inclined to disagree. But because I apparently left my spine in the car I still didn't say anything. But I could not look, or I might have thrown up, my cuticles being something I'm apparently incredibly squeamish about.
To be fair, she did a good job on the actual polishing part. But a day later I still don't see any difference in the way my cuticles look except that they look less healthy and natural, honestly. And the nailbed on my right middle finger, the same finger that cause the aforementioned flinching, still aches.
It bothered me less for some reason when she did the cuticle thing on my feet (note that she didn't even ask this time, but I was getting used to having my opinion disregarded at that point) although I still couldn't watch. And since I actually can see the positive difference, and thus the point, with my toenails, it bothers me less after the fact. I found the pedicure process much nicer overall, actually. The massage chair didn't hurt either.
So, results: if I ever get a manicure again, and it's looking unlikely at this point, you can bet I'll be informing the manicurist beforehand that my cuticles are off-limits, thanks, and if she seems skeptical in the least then she can just stay far away from my hands. I WOULD totally get a pedicure again - so long as there's a massage chair in the deal.
It was great fun - except for the actual manicure part.
Now, I've never had a manicure or a pedicure before, for pretty much the same reasons I rarely buy or use makeup or have such a mental block against buying shoes that cost more than $30 for the pair - and especially for the same reason I put off going to the hair salon. A, I don't quite get the spending of money on girly frivolities; B, I have personal space issues. I've gotten over the hair salon thing as much as I think is possible, but it took figuring out that my hair really NEEDS to be trimmed regularly to look acceptable and even then I went through a number of stylists before I found one who was friendly and made me comfortable but didn't insist on endless small talk and who also LISTENED to what I said when I told her what I wanted done. (It also helps that she has the same kind of hair as me, so really gets the specific quirks of fine, thin hair.)
Anyway. Take my discomfort with having my hair handled by a stranger and multiply it by fifty when it comes to having my nails messed with. My mom has been trying to get me to get pedicures with her for YEARS.
But I was willing to give it a chance, finally. About thirty seconds into it, though, I knew I wasn't going to be won over.
First, my manicurist expressed her dismay at the length of my nails. I don't bite my nails anymore, but I keep them filed short because I think long nails look stupid on me. Since the shade of polish I chose was an incredibly neutral color, I really don't think the length of my nails mattered at all. But whatever.
She finished filing and soaking my cuticles. Then she pulled out a stick and scissors and I stupidly realized WHY she'd been soaking my cuticles. At my look of horror, she said "we must push back these cuticles, of course. But maybe we won't trim them this time."
I said, "No, let's really not." If I'd been feeling like less of a bothersome and dim-witted child, I might have also said "and I'm really not comfortable with you doing ANYTHING to my cuticles, thanks" but she was already making me feel like an idiot, so I said nothing.
She then proceeded to dig at my cuticles as though they personally offended her. I flinched at one point when she got particularly enthusiastic, and she asked if she was hurting me, but she looked annoyed when she asked it so I just said no, I was fine.
Then she picked up the scissors and started cutting! "I have to or they won't look good," was all she said. Since I've personally NEVER had a problem with the way my cuticles look, or particularly given them any notice at all really beyond being vaguely aware that they existed, I was inclined to disagree. But because I apparently left my spine in the car I still didn't say anything. But I could not look, or I might have thrown up, my cuticles being something I'm apparently incredibly squeamish about.
To be fair, she did a good job on the actual polishing part. But a day later I still don't see any difference in the way my cuticles look except that they look less healthy and natural, honestly. And the nailbed on my right middle finger, the same finger that cause the aforementioned flinching, still aches.
It bothered me less for some reason when she did the cuticle thing on my feet (note that she didn't even ask this time, but I was getting used to having my opinion disregarded at that point) although I still couldn't watch. And since I actually can see the positive difference, and thus the point, with my toenails, it bothers me less after the fact. I found the pedicure process much nicer overall, actually. The massage chair didn't hurt either.
So, results: if I ever get a manicure again, and it's looking unlikely at this point, you can bet I'll be informing the manicurist beforehand that my cuticles are off-limits, thanks, and if she seems skeptical in the least then she can just stay far away from my hands. I WOULD totally get a pedicure again - so long as there's a massage chair in the deal.
no subject
I'm with you on the pricey shoes as well. I'm a Payless queen. But see this evening's post regarding my new boots. They were a bit over my normal limit for shoes ($37), but I looooooooove them. Now I just have to learn how to walk in them.
no subject
(...which does in fact make you more attractive in my book than girls who are.)
(not that I'm hitting on you.)
(parentheses are the wave of the future.)