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Mani, Pedi, Panties

Do I pick up my pants and ruin my new manicure or do I flaunt what my mama gave me and endure the embarrassment?

I knew I was exposing my backside to the crowd, but my nails were freshly painted and picking up my pants would risk a smudge... 

The weather was beautiful on the day everyone saw my deriere. It was a Saturday afternoon. Flip-flops were on, and me, my sister, and my mother were headed for a mani and pedi; a gift from my stepfather. It would be a new experience as this place had just recently opened; a factory of sorts. There were chairs lined up 'till the eye could see. One side for manicures, one side for pedicures...in the middle, those massage chairs that you need to straddle to get a 15-minute 'special'.  

The service was superb. We were greeted by a host and, over his shoulder, we could see women drinking tea and being fawned over. We placed our orders as if they were lunch specials. We waited only a few minutes before being called to our thrones...me, by a young man who was instantly at my feet, placing my piggies, ever so gently, in rainbow-colored water. My mother, without crown, but still Queen for the day, pointed and said to her entourage, 'one, two, three', adding massages to the bill. Me and my sister eyed the leather torture devices in the middle of the room and declined. She insisted. So did my 'young man'. So did the lady walking around the room taking orders. I shuddered at the thought and my relaxation-mode went out the window.  

"Relax, relax" was what my 'young man' kept saying. "Okay" I smiled back, bracing myself for the ultimate pumice tickle. This bothered him, I knew. He did not have time in his schedule for this nonsense. He only had time for 'x' minutes for a pedicure, 'x' minutes for a manicure, and 15 (long) minutes for a massage before we would become dethroned and tossed back into the street like peasants...with brightly-colored nails. 

He pulled my foot towards him to scrub, I pulled it back in an effort to stop the laughter. This went on for a minute or two. "Relax, relax". "Okay" I said, knowing I was lying through my teeth. I think my 'young man' feared a kick in the face, so, needless to say, only half of my calluses were removed that day. He gave up. Can you blame him?  

We proceeded with the manicures (the massage now looming closer), following the continuity of the assembly line and marveling at their business etiquette. When done, I began to waddle over to the 'chair', already embarrassed by the compromising position it held without my deriere in it. I looked around the perimeter of the room for cameras. My panties were sliding down a bit but I could not retrieve them with wet nails while on my mile-long journey from the mani station. I contemplated asking my 'young man' for a hand, but knew it was not in his job description.

Once face down, I could only see my pocketbook and my coral nails in front of me. I could not see, thank God, the women's faces to my left or the women's face to my right, as my massage began. "Relax, relax" I heard, his tension rising as well, probably because he wanted to slap me for my inability to relax. "Okay", I mumbled, my face pressed so tightly into the chair that moving my lips to speak was becoming a struggle. He rubbed my shoulders, my head, my back, my lower back...I became more tense the lower he got. Might I remind you, I was leaning forward, face-down, into a chair. My midriff, not so pretty. My backside, not any better. As he reached my tailbone (this would look SO much better if I were laying flat!!), my shirt began to rise and my pants began to lower (my panties had already lowered so you can imagine where I am going with this). I just knew it. I felt the breeze. I could sense the exposure and the stares. I tried to mumble to my mother, next to me, but to no avail. I tried to move my hips, hoping I could adjust myself this way, but to no avail. It was what it was.  

I closed my eyes and relaxed, for the first time all day, making mental notes of my wardrobe for my next visit. The three of us compared stories afterwards, but couldn't confirm any theories, since we were all face-down, exposed, at the same time.  I laughed to myself, wondering if the glaring patrons and my 'young man' could see a family resemblance. Maybe I should walk in, backside first, next time and see if he remembers me.

This post is contributed by a community member. The views expressed in this blog are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect those of Patch Media Corporation. Everyone is welcome to submit a post to Patch. If you'd like to post a blog, go here to get started.

Donna Galan June 10, 2012 at 11:40 AM
Lol! Funny story .....at Sammys Nails one of these wonderful customer service driven ladies would have said "Donna up pants faw down-no touch-I pick faw you!" This nail salon can't do enough for their customers - I love em all!!
Kristen June 10, 2012 at 12:28 PM
It seems some people dont understand how "blogging" works. Very fun read. Keep 'em coming, Debbie!
Tony Chliek June 10, 2012 at 07:35 PM
Embarrassing? Yes, but funny as hell. lol
Nancy Anzalone June 11, 2012 at 10:57 AM
I thought this was funny! and a scenario I'm sure quite a few of us can relate to. Sometimes its nice to just read something light and humorous so if it bothers anyone to read this, then just don't. Thank you for sharing this cute story with us and keep them coming!
Debbie Bacon June 11, 2012 at 02:47 PM
Thank you, Nancy, Tony, Kristen, Donna, and Jayvee. I write what I know (and laugh at myself every day). It's the Relaxation Day Spa; it's on North Ocean Avenue in the Kmart shopping center. Everywhere I go, someone else is talking about it. They have regular, private massages as well...away from the public eye :)

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