Shake It Baby

With all of this warm weather, I have finally been able to break out my favorite shoes...my Teva flip-flops. I don't think that there is anything more wonderful than a pair of shoes that you can just slip on and go. Not only are they some of the most convenient and comfortable shoes, but you can wear them with everything...pure perfection. The only drawback to flip-flops is the fact that you really have to keep your feet looking good to wear them, so pedicures seem to be a necessity...or at least that is what I am telling myself.

Today was my day to get a much needed maintenance pedicure. I decided I would try a lovely little Vietnamese-speaking nail salon by my house. It had all of the necessary pedicure criteria: good health rating, spa pedicures, reasonable prices, OPI polish, and massaging chairs. This is where we get to the "meat" of this story...with the massaging chairs. Now, I am sure that most of you have experienced the massaging chairs when getting a pedicure, so I won't elaborate too much.

As I sat down in the chair, I noticed that the remote was looking like it had been trampled by a stiletto and was only being held together by a few strips of packing tape. I picked it up and pushed the "knead" button...nothing happened. I pushed the "rolling" button...nothing. About that time, my pedicurist (if that's a real word) looked at me and said, "Auto only." With those words, he grabbed for the remote and pushed the big yellow button at the top.

I admit, the first few minutes were relaxing with a little bit of light kneading mixed with some rolling. Then came the money shot...the percussion portion of the massage. Now, for any of you that have ever experienced the percussion setting on a massage chair, it feels like someone alternating punches on either side of your back. The problem with this is that those punches were hitting either side of my back directly in line with my boobs. If you had given me some tassels, I could have been making tips in there. It was hilarious. A few seconds later, my pedicurist looks at me waving my "tassels," and then says something in Vietnamese to both of the men on either side of him. They both giggle, and I am mortified. I discretely grab the remote and turn off the burlesque show that is unfolding before their eyes.

The moral of this story is, please use caution with that percussion setting...or don't forget to bring your tassels.