My Hairy Toes

My daughter and I have a tradition. It’s not so different from other mothers and daughters. Pretty common, really. Whenever we get together we get a manicure or pedicure. Usually both. We choose the color from a vast variety of shades. It’s amazing to me the colors that people paint their tips. Why, in God’s name, would anyone want to paint their nails black, as though they’ve all been hammered on and will fall off any minute? Then again, I suppose blood red could be looked at as equally shocking, but I like to see rubicund hands clapping in happiness.

            My last stop during my two months of travel was to New York to visit with my daughter. On Saturday of the visit we walked down a Brooklyn street knowing there were several salons available and looking forward to a good soak and foot massage. It’s a simple luxury. My toes are the only nails I like painted and I chose a flashy orangey-red to celebrate them. As I rolled up my trousers the lovely Vietnamese woman took one look at my legs and said, “Want wax? Only twelve dolla for half!”

            Hair on my legs has never bothered me. I’m not one of those shave-every-day kinda gals (if you don’t mind a bit of personal information) and I’ve been known to put on a good coat during the winter. Traveling through Europe, where it was still chilly, and then on to Istanbul, where the dress was modest, I felt no need to even pack a razor. But here I was in one of the most fashionable cities in the world and it was 86° and humid out. Definitely leg-showin weather. So I followed this tiny woman into a cubical to be stripped of the winter season.

            Hot beeswax was quickly spread over my lower legs, like butter on toast, followed by ribbons of muslin pressed firmly into the melted honeycomb. With a blessedly quick tug waxy hair was removed. Voila! Lovely satiny smooth summer legs.

            To once again get personal, my toes also sprout a lovely fuzz. I’ve been told that bearded feet are a sign of wealth. That’s not the case with me, most definitely, but oddly enough I like the wee bit of growth. It reminds me that I too am animal. My dog and I share hairy toes (though he certainly wins the prize when it comes to density, thank goodness) and I have a fondness for chickens with feathered feet.

            Before I could say oh-my-that-last-tug-brought-tears-to-my-eyes I heard, “I wax toes too”. Hot wax. Strips of cloth. And there I was, with naked toes.

            I look forward to the new growth. I’m told it comes back finer and softer.