Bitch, bitch, bitch. I hate going to the doctor, but the least fearful is the podiatrist. I go to get my toenails cut as I have ingrown nails on the big toes. People with diabetes also frequent this popular physician, but I am not there yet. I love that he recommends regular foot massages to keep the circulation going in my lower appendages, as he so formally calls them. A toe is a toe is a toe as Gertrude Stein might have said (she’s the nutty American poet who invented “a rose is a rose is a rose…”). So much for a literary reference. Let’s get back to my foot massage. This blog today is devoted to this wondrous treatment. I sing the praises to all who will listen. If you have never tried it, please read on.
I was hesitant at first for some unknown reason. It was almost a phobia. I associated a foot message with a prissy pedicure. I also thought it would hurt. I know that men get them, but not me. Even when a girlfriend suggested a couple’s pedicure, I balked. I prefer more masculine pursuits. So I didn’t listen to either her or my podiatrist. One day I was walking by a day spa/salon and saw a man sitting in a chair within view. He was getting a foot massage and he seemed to be quite happy about it. He had a big smile on his face, so I went in.
“How does it feel,” I asked. He replied that it helped his aching bunion. He walked a lot during the day for exercise and even in sandals, standard on the island, his feet were sore. “Have a seat,” he beckoned. This is how I found out about the magic of human hands. No self-application with a store-bought appliance for me. I was considering this route since I could do it at home with no one watching and therefore please my doctor. But no. After this impromptu foot massage, I was hooked. It is the salon forever.
I thanked the customer who lured me into paradise and left. I couldn’t wait to come back. I didn’t need an excuse because it was doctor’s orders. I wondered if I could deduct the foot massage as a medical expense on my income taxes. Why not? Ha! Just try and audit me, devil IRS, and you will be vanquished. I am quite sure that this is a new one for the rule book. I love being a deviant. A touch of perversity is in my nature. Meanwhile, I go about my business and enjoy my fabulous boat. When friends and family are gathered, I extol the praises of my foot massage. I hand out cards for the salon to promote their business as a favor. In return, I get an occasional freebie. I don’t turn it down.