Treated myself to a pedicure today. I was dressed in standard random male street clothes, sneakers, socks. Just picked a random nail salon, went in, asked about getting a pedicure, with polish, was greeted with a bit of a giggle, but directed to a pedicure station in the back of the shop. "Great," thought I, "at least I won't be on view from the street."

It's Friday, the shop is full of women customers, I'm the only oddity. The other customers ignore me, pretty much, each concentrating on her own experience of the place, I suppose.

The procedure began with the awkwardness of getting unshod and seated in the workstation. Each station has a padded chair with an attached footbath with built-in plumbing and whirlpool. The stations are very close together. You can't reach the seat without stepping into the empty footbath, although I seem to be trying to. There's a little room between the footbaths, but if I put my women's size 12 foot there, I won't be able to turn around without shearing it off at the ankle.

My technician is oriental, Korean I believe, judging from the language spoken in the shop. She does her best to direct me and I manage to get into the seat, my large sneakers placed against the wall so that all the staff passing by has to step over them, my shoulder bag on the seat next to me, which is unoccupied. The forward edge of the footbath has an upholstered rest where the technician guides your feet to be worked on. The bath is filled and soap added, while the technician works on removing my Revlon "Hush Blush" nail polish. As she finishes each foot, it gets guided into the footbath, a process that will get repeated a few times.

I just wanted the nails polished, but instead I seemingly get the works. Cuticles pushed and scraped off, some trimming here and there, the bottoms of my feet ground down with a metal "stone" that looks like something for shaping polyester autobody filler. Various chemicals, substances, and tools are involved. I'm trying to tell her I don't want any skin cut away, but she's working faster than I can communicate with her, while reassuring me that what she was doing was trivial.

Also in all this was a calf and foot massage and the application of moisturizer. Combined with the footbath, it had the potential to be relaxing, but I get the impression the technician is weirded out by my being there, so she's hurrying through it. Besides, my toenails are much bigger than the ones she usually does, so there's extra time required there.

It's time to select the nail polish, and I tell her I want something similar to what she removed. She brings back something lighter. I pull out a picture I took a few days prior of me dressed, with that nail polish. She takes the picture away and consults with another employee. Some giggling is involved. Eventually, we negotiate a color which isn't really like the one she removed, but it is close to something else I have at home.

She finishes the various coats. Base, color, and shine. She picks up my shoulder bag to lead me to a drying station. I grab my shoes and follow. Where is it? Well, I'm glad you asked, right next to the front door, which is glass. If that's not bad enough, it's a warm day, and another employee decides it's time to prop open the front door. So, there I'm sitting, two feet from the sidewalk, next to an open door, my toenail polish drying for 15 minutes.

You have to be brave if you're going to do this. I'd definitely recommend negotiating the "no cutting" (except the nails) in advance, though. Two of my toes are pretty irritated. I don't see much to account for the pain, but I put some ointment on them anyway. A really close inspection of the polish makes me prouder of the jobs I've done by myself. This really isn't that much better, although I must admit all the manicuring (pedicuring?) of the cuticles has made my toes a bit prettier. Now, if only none of them get infected and fall off...