She holds up my feet, and gets the lady next to her to look at them. They both laugh their heads off.
Another lady comes over. They all laugh. I make eye contact with the girl next to me and make a grimacing crab face. She looks back at me with sympathy.
They start to put what feels like feathers on my feet- I look and realise it's those foot strips that contain different types of acid to make your skin peel off on its own.
I realise they've placed acid over my huge heel blister. Silent screams of pain.
Two more ladies come over to look at my feet and start laughing. I get in a huff and ask wth they're laughing at. They laugh at me. I ask them why my feet are funny. They laugh even more.
I give up, and start writing this post. My blister is killing.
She starts to massage my butt. Start to get concerned about what I've asked for. She soon stops, thank god.
More tapping on my feet, and an excruciating calf rub down. I want to run away but have strips of acid stuck to the soles of my feet. Feeling very far from home rn.
Oh god what now. Okay, the strips are being peeled off. I wish I could see but am also scared. I think most of my foot skin is coming off also. FUCKKKKK
PUMICE. Such, such hard pumice. It hurts and tickles all at once, times a million. I'm trying so hard not to reflex and kick her in the face. Please make it stop.
Realise I could have had two cocktails at the hotel pool bar for the price of this agony. Swearing at myself in a rage for being so stupid.
Time for the other foot, old blister foot. The skin is seriously flaking off, and I kind of want to be sick. But also want to cry, and laugh hysterically.
Pumice. Can't type, trying not to explode. Make a low, groaning sound. The girl next to me whimpers back in solidarity. We are sisters now.
Okay. Feet being soaked in a bowl, though I'm still on my stomach and have NO idea wtf is happening really ever.
My new sister leaves, and I want to scream "NO NO YOU CANNOT" but I don't. Too busy trying not to swear.
More pumice. More soaking. I don't even want to think about how much skin they've removed. Or how I'll manage to walk back to my hotel.
Decide to have a stiff drink on the way back, regardless. I fucking deserve it mate.
The foot scrub is finished! Now it's only a nail paint job left...or is it?!
It's SO not. The oldest lady comes over and whacks me on the back of my thigh. Apparently this means I have to get up and go to another bed. Because obviously.
She looks at my current colour. A perfectly lovely OPI coral/red. She tuts. She then hits me on the arm which means I have to choose one of her shades. There's a frosted red, cerise, frosted blue, and a frosted purple. I deliberate. I get whacked again. Cerise it is.
I lie down and she tells me off for not putting a towel behind my head first. I tell her I have no towel. She tuts, and throws one at me that she has beside her. It lands half on my stomach, half on my face. I have zero dignity left.
Mate, now she's doing my cuticles. Will I have any toes left? I want to scream but this lady is scarier than the last one and I'm sick of her whacking me.
Thinking about a scotch on the rocks and 2 cigarettes. Happier times.
Vaseline is put all over my toes and I am DONE fighting. At this point, I have no option but to lie back and sweat.
Why didn't I just get a massage like normal people?
Every now and again between ripping off my cuticles, the lady yells at everyone and I think she's telling them to shut the hell up because everyone does. I wonder where she was before when they were all cracking up at my feet.
Decide I HATE feet.
Pick pick rip rip tut tut. A near bottle of acetone is poured over my feet- including my idiot blister. Sneak a peek and see her pouring acetone into the nail polish bottle because it has clearly been in rotation since 1986.
Wonder what my fabulous nail artist friend Leah would say about all this. Realise she'd most likely laugh her ass off and tell me that that's what I get for $16. Realise she'd be right. Feel like a real dick.
The lady starts to apply the polish, and every time she bends down my toe pokes into her boob. She tuts at me, but doesn't hit me- yet.
We MUST be on the home straight now. Surely. Starting to get super, super excited. Not about seeing the end results, but about running out of here back to the safety of the pool bar.
When I say "pool bar", I mean a swim up bar. Not a bar where you play pool. Not that I've anything against that, but honestly right now whatever I can't even finish this train of thought.
My toe isn't bending the way she wants it to (it needs to go OUT more, it's CROOKED and FUNNY), so she just kind of jams it into her preferred position.
Think about when I can go to a chemist to buy polish remover, and a new colour. Not tonight- I've plans to cry at the bar. Tomorrow.
But hey- maybe it won't be as bad as I imagine?! My feet are tingling and kind of fiery, but I can cope with that. Time will tell.
She directs a huge fan on my feet and walks off so I guess she's done. I still have sponges wedged between each toe so I can't really move.
Can anyone please save me????
IT IS FINISHED. I'm out. Guess what? The soles of my feet are ridiculously smooth, with zero dry or rough bits. The colour really, really isn't my vibe, but I can live with that. But guess what? I still really, really hate feet now.