“…when women have a conversation, they’re communicating on five levels. They follow the conversation that they’re actually having, the conversation that is specifically being avoided, the tone being applied to the overt conversation, the buried conversation that is being covered only in subtext, and finally the other person’s body language.”–Jim Butcher
Warm water swirled around my feet and immediately relaxed my soul and soles. As the pedicurist pulled clippers, chemicals, and other tools of the trade from plastic drawers, I noticed that she had a nose piercing.
“When did you get that?” I asked pointing to my mid-face for reference.
She squinted up at the ceiling. “Oh, about seven or eight years ago.”
“Wow,” I said. “Shows how observant I am! Do you like it?”
I suppose that was an odd question given the fact she was wearing a small black diamond in her right nostril and had been for all those years. However, in my defense, I have had my ears pierced in several places and, over time, abandoned all but one set. For me, the extra piercings were never comfortable, so why continue jabbing posts through them? Fashion-schmashin. Pain bad!
The pedicurist said, “Yes, I like it.” She gifted me with a dazzling smile. “My husband told me I couldn’t get the piercing, so of course I did it. It was for me, not him!”
Another female client sat one pedicure station over from me. She listened to our conversation and chimed in as if it were, well, expected. Women are sharers.
“I have a lot of piercings,” she said. “In fact, it was when I ran out of places I wanted to be pierced that I started getting tattoos.”
My pedicurist and I gave her the visual once over. She had:
–a nose piercing
–multiple ear piercings including a “bar” that ran over the top of one ear.
–a tongue piercing
–an eyebrow piercing.
–Perhaps others we couldn’t see? There really is such a thing as too much information.
“How do you, um, sleep with those piercings?” I asked.
She thought for a moment. “It was uncomfortable at first,” she admitted. “I had to cup my hand near my ear or make a pillow hollow. But now it’s not too bad.”
As I pondered “not too bad,” on a scale of 1-10, my pedicurist said, “Let’s see your tattoos.”
The woman swiveled this way and that, lifted sleeves and dipped her T-shirt collar low. There was an impressive amount of ink. The notion of brocaded fabric crept into my mind.
My pedicurist said, “I want a tattoo…nothing extensive like yours…just something small.” She gave that dazzling smile again. “But my husband says I can’t get one.”
I fully expect to see her new tattoo the next time I need a pedicure.
Oh my lord! Is there anything better than women conspiring to be themselves despite the men in our lives? Do you have a similar story? Please share it!
Do you have a similar story, or stories? Please share!
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