...no, not the
Fish Kind.
So awhile back, I asked my friend S (of the
S&M variety) what she does to her nails, because they are always so pretty. Turns out she gets acrylics. I always had bad associations of acrylic nails, thinking they were for the over-sixties crowd and were always thick, horribly long, beyellowed horrors:
...or that they were a "designer" nightmare:
But S's nails were always so lovely.
So one day I decided to go for it.
Now, I've always been wary of getting manis and pedis. I mean, there are so many horror stories of people getting nail fungus or other atrocious problems, and you have to make sure they sterilize properly, and each salon is always kind of hit or miss (and usually "miss" in a big big way) until you really find Your Place.
So S and I went on a trek to find Our Place. We had our acrylics done at a certain joint a bit southeast of us, and I was actually quite pleased for a first timer:
Nice, normal, natural. Thus, I was hooked.
And since then, we've gone to a few other places closer to where we live, trying to find Our Place. We went to one salon on a whim, where, thank God we had the pedi done first, because they did such an
atrocious job on our feet (they couldn't even do a decent job applying polish--I mean CUB OD)--
--that I can't even imagine what they would have done when applying our acrylic nail fills, so after the pedis, we skedaddled out, slyly claiming a "time conflict," and then had our nails done elsewhere. We lucked out, because it turned out that the "elsewhere" is Our Place. I think we found it. Pricier, but very very nice. And they did a great job on our acrylic fills.
The only problem? Oh, y'know, a little thing called Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder. I mean, talk about pressing the limits of my germaphobia. Even when the salon is pristine, and the autoclave is directly in my line of sight, imagine the
balls it takes for me to sit there and basically
hold hands with a stranger for 45 minutes, or let them scrub my feet and massage my entire lower legs and just pray to the Patron Saint of Shaven Callouses that the equipment truly is fresh and clean and that I'm not picking up a raging case of someone's
tinea pedis or HIV or zombie flu. I've seen one too many places take cursory swipes of their pedicure bowls with a rotting, grimy sponge to feel confident in the cleanliness of the water my feet are soaking in. Plus, (1) what is that blue crystal stuff they add to the water; and (B) what does it actually do--disinfect, soften, or just prettify the water; and (iii) do they think it can actually accomplish anything if they add it by the micro-mili-scoop? I mean, that shit is added with a cocaine spoon, y'all. What could it possibly do but turn the water a little bit blue? It sure ain't killing no zombie foot-hepatitis.
Anyway.
So the last time S and I went out in search of Our Place, and we had Series of Unfortunate Events before actually finding a nice salon, after getting my toes did in the GROCE SALON, I came home and first scrubbed off my feet with Sani-Hands for Kids (which really should be called "Sani-Hands-and-Feet for Kids and OCDers"--they're missing their market) so that I could dare tread on the carpets of my pristine home--
--and then made my way to the bathroom and literally took a full shower, scrubbing down my entire leg area. Three times. Seriously, three times.
Anyway, so far so good. No Zombie flu or raging fungal infections, but sweet God is my toenail polish job atrocious. I can't wait for my next appointment at Our Place where I will get them redone. And then go home and take a bleach bath anyway, even IF Our New Place is hygienic to the naked eye. I mean, surely germs and fungi can live in the jars of nail polish, right? And those can't be disinfected and are reused constantly, round the clock? And....and.....
...OK, I should end this entry now before I work myself into A State.
