That was my friend, Ashley’s comment as we had a girly mani-pedi date at a, what seemed like, acceptable place of business in Oakville.
Let’s back it up a bit shall we…
They always try to win you over.
‘You want to do Bio-gel?’
That’s the kicker. Then they show you the pretty nails and how wonderful they look. You imagine the designs and colours that will transform your dull and dingy man-nails into those that grace the likes of all pop stars and models around.
‘Sure!’ you say/half-yell as you grin like a bumbling idiot.
And then reality sets in a few days after you leave the nail salon feeling (and looking) like a million bucks…your nails begin to grow. And then they don’t look so much ‘million dollar’ as they do ‘Dollarama’.
You start picking at them. One or two breaks/pops off. You even try covering them with your own nail polish in a quick attempt at manicure recovery. Nothing brings back the goodness…
You surrender and either go have them removed (for an additional cost of course) or slowly but surely get them off on your own. A painful but proud accomplishment.
That was Ashley and my state of affairs when we walked into said salon last Friday. Except, I still had 10 1/2 shellacked nails to deal with…but that’s a different tale of events.
The pedicures were great. Still is great…
The shellac on my finger nails required a ‘special’ removal process (which of course is not explained to you when they sucker you in with applying shellac in the first place. See above statement regarding ‘bumbling idiot’.) The ‘special removal process’ consisted of dousing cotton balls with Acetone and securing them to my nails with tinfoil. That’s right. I looked like Edward Scissorhands, with nubs…
On to the manicures. Both Ashley and my experiences were quite similar. Same lines and vocabulary, different nail ‘technicians’.
After removing the remaining tinfoil wraps from my fingers (as I left a trail as they fell off during the walk from spa chair to manicure desk) – I let the ‘technician’ know I had recently taken off acrylic nails and that mine were still super sensitive.
”No problem” was all she said, as she used her bamboo torture device to begin to scrap off the remaining shellac.
Never in my life have I heard myself make that sound as I yanked my hand back and cradled it like a new born baby.
‘Oh! You have thin nails. Very thin. You want Bio-gel? Acrylic?’
First you tell me what I already warned you about, after causing serious bodily harm, and then you expect me to ‘upgrade’ to the very thing that has put me in this situation in the first place??
I knew the words that would come out of my mouth would be vulgar and inappropriate. And there was a lovely middle-aged woman sitting at the table next to me. I simply shook my head ‘no’
I allowed the ‘technician’ to continue on her way. She finally went to get the colour I had told her about 5 times was left at the spa chair – seriously, 5 times as she giggled and nodded her understanding ( I use this term loosely).
And then the polish application began.
My 14 month old nephew has brought home artwork from daycare where he has stayed within the lines better than this lady.
The steam was probably visible to others by this point.
As I walked from the polish station to the dry station, I passed Ashley – who was 1/2 way through her manicure and polish application. I observed her looking at her freshly painted nails as the words floated easily from her mouth as she shook her head in awe…
‘you have one job to do…’
As I sit her writing this 4 days later – with bare fingers nails as the chipping began within 2 hours of my $45 splurge and concluded as I picked the rest off during my overnight shift last night – I vow never again to allow such materialistic glamour to persuade me to par-take in such idiotic behavior.
I could have purchased a new pair of shoes with the $45 I spent on my so-called mani/pedi combo (not to mention the dollar bills that I threw away on the original cause of my nails demise)…
Or a new purse…
Or had 4 glasses of wine…
You know, important and realistic things to spend one’s money on.
I shall try to remember this in about 6 months. When I see how ‘pretty’ the lady next to me looks with her freshly manicured nails.
I will try. But usually the wine prevents short term memory from assisting me in my decision making.