Why I Hate Pedicures

First of all, I hate my toes. I’ve spent nearly my entire life trying to cover them up. Shopping for summer shoes is a chore as I try to find sandals that showcase them in the least awful light. Pedicures require a person getting up close and personal with my toes. No thank you.

I feel sorry for pedicurists. What an awful job, having to see all those bunions, corns, and fungus-infested toenails. Scraping off dead skin and cutting too-thick cuticles. Ew.

I wonder what the pedicurists are talking about amongst themselves, since usually I can’t understand their language. How ugly my toes are? How spoiled are American women? I doubt they’re saying how much they love their jobs.

On the rare occasions I get a pedicure, I almost always notice a tiny dot of fungus on a toenail after I remove the polish, which I then spend days dousing with bleach and cutting off until no trace is left. I am suspicious that nail salons might intentionally give customers fungus to keep them coming back to cover it up, though it seems there is no evidence to back this theory.

I don’t really like wearing nail polish. It looks pretty, but I feel like my poor toenails are suffocating under it. When the polish comes off, my nails appear an unhealthy hew of yellow. Poor things unable to see the light.

I worry that I might inadvertently be contributing to human trafficking. Are the pedicurists forced to work for free, in servitude, in exchange for the promise of the American Dream? There is no way of knowing.

For these reasons, I do my own pedicures, except for special occasions, such as summer weddings, or rare instances of recklessness when I’m willing to risk fungus or ridicule for a few moments of being spoiled.

I leave you with a clip from the Seinfeld episode of Elaine at a Korean nail shop, because nowadays we could use a little lightness. As always, I welcome your comments.