I wanted to get this particular question out of the way well in advance of International Women's Day, which is 8 March. When you click the hyperlink I provided, please take especial note of the fact that currently, the UK is holding twice as many events as the USA is to commemorate this day. I realize that it's technically not a competition, but after I read this article in which I learned that a "report from Brigham and Women’s Hospital released yesterday found women are routinely bypassed as medical research subjects — starting at the selection of male lab mice over females — which means women end up with health recommendations that are really meant for men." Even though a law was passed in 1993 tying National Institute of Health funding to the inclusion of women in study samples, "two decades later, research specific to women is still lagging". Senator Elizabeth Warren (D-MA; Real Life Superhero) has gotten a sign from the Commissioner, so she is already on top of this. Even if she has to spin Earth counter-clockwise, things will happen, believe you me.
Anyway, I digress.
This question is sort of a frivolous, Girly-Type Question, and while it may be trivial in light of Larger Women's Issues, let's face it: we can't always be building low-income housing or trying to tinker with soybeans to find a reliable strain that is drought-resistant. Sometimes we need a little bit of Steroypical Me Time. So...
Do you get regular mani/pedis?
Heavens no. And I say that with absolutely no judgment at all towards the activity or those who perform the job or those who enjoy getting either or both. Or even the expenditure involved although I have to say that I'm largely clueless as to the cost of any of them. I know dozens of people who luxuriate in getting a pedicure, my sister included. I know dozens of people who get all different kinds of manicures. Bridal parties do it as a group activity before the wedding. Friends go as a matter of course, sometimes as a standing outing. It's simply not my thing.
Let me start first and foremost with a pedicure. I can give you my reason in a single word: feet. I talked about this topic before, here. No one, and I mean no one, touches my feet. I don't even like typing or looking at the word feet. No way I'm going to allow a stranger--a stranger!--to get intimate with my feet and my toes and all that. Ugh. I shuddered just then. I honestly did. The very idea. I don't even like Rick to touch my feet. And don't get all ooeygooey about the so-called merits of a foot massage. I almost just threw up in my mouth. Urk.
Long ago, back in the 80s and 90s, I had lovely, long fingernails. I would grow them out and use all different kinds of polish. One of my favourites was a knockoff of the popular Chanel color at the time, which was a very very dark mahogany. There was another one called Black Cherry which looked black but had a distinctly red hue to it. And I loved, loved, loved a classic red. But if even one nail broke, I'd cut them all down and grow them back together. I hated the way it looked if one was different. But those days are over. It's okay, though. I can type much better with very short fingernails.
If I could have long fingernails back and get a manicure, I'd get a French, I think. It's basic and always looks so finished and sophisticated. I've never been a fan of painted toenails because all it does is draw attention to feet. Nothing good about that. Ugh.