Trying to Conceal My Pink Toenails
I ventured out this week to get new nose pads on my eyeglasses. The type used on these spectacles break off every few months. Without the soft rubber pad the glasses put an ugly indentation in my nose, which hurts. So off I went to one of the few business establishments left in America that perform a service for free. Most eyeglass stores make minor repairs gratis — such as nose pads or straightening up earpieces after I have rolled over on the glasses while napping.
A few eyeglass stores have started charging, but there are plenty out there who don’t, no doubt reasoning that I am more likely to buy my next pair of glasses from them. And they are right. I will, though I am trying to make this pair last as long as possible. For one thing, I’m fond of them even after nearly six years. For another, I need to watch my shekels, being semi-retired and self-underemployed.
The only other type of business I can think of that doesn’t charge for a common service is tire stores, most of which will check air pressure for free when that pesky warning light flashes. They will identify the culprit and add air if needed. Of course, if there is a nail in the tire, that costs money. If you can think of other free services provided in hopes of building a loyal customer base, please pass them along.
Anyway, I’m seated in the eyeglass store waiting my turn. It is busy so it takes a while. I am sandwiched between an older friendly woman reading a paperback and a young 20-something busily texting away on her iPhone. I have my iPhone out as well, reading the New York Times to while away the minutes until my name is called.
For some reason I looked down at my feet. I was dressed in shorts, T-shirt and flip-flops — my standard semi-retired, don’t-have-to-dress-as-a-grownup look these days. After all, I was headed from here to the storage unit to paw through boxes.
First, a word about flip-flops. Now I get it. For years I looked askance at my daughters, students, co-workers, et al, who insisted on wearing flip-flops every chance they could. Until a few years ago, the last time I wore flip-flops was at the beach as a child. They were entirely made of rubber and hurt my toes. Let me just say that flip-flops have vaulted up the comfort scale in the decades since. My Beautiful Mystery Companion and our daughter gave me a pair about three years ago. I have nearly worn the tread off them, no longer reluctant to put my hairy, not-particularly attractive feet out there on display. I have joined the masses in wearing the next-best thing to going barefoot. Actually better, since my feet are too tender to not have something between my soles and the soil.
OK, so I look down and realize I have forgotten that Abbie, our 14-year-old daughter, painted my toenails a light shade of pink the other night. She first had painted her mom’s toenails. Being 14, she asked on a dare if she could paint mine. Sure, I said. Knock yourself out. I kept reading while she painted. In the dim light of the living room, it looked barely noticeable.
In the police-interrogation-room lighting of the eyeglass store, my pink toenails shined like a lighthouse beacon. I warily looked at my seatmates, who paid me no mind. I tucked my feet as far under the chair as possible. Then my name was called, glasses promptly fixed.
The woman who fixed my glasses turned out to be a high school classmate that I have not seen in nearly 40 years and will not remember until I can get the yearbook out of storage. All the while we are talking about what classes we possibly took together, I was acutely aware that I am standing in the midst of this store with pink toenails. “OK, good to see you,” I kept repeating idiotically until I could free myself and escape. She asked what I was now doing, and all I could think of (but didn’t say) is “running around town with pink toenails.”
I have been wearing closed-toe sandals whenever in public since then. My daughter, who along with her mother found this story quite amusing, offered to use nail polish remover. I declined, figuring the sheen will soon wear off.
Besides, the flip-flops needed a break to air out.
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