I live on a fixed and modest income. I budget for each necessity of life. Necessities include food, clothing, shelter and dog biscuits. One category in my spending plan I call “Personal Care.” Prominent among my personal care items is a monthly pedicure.
Some folks consider a pedicure extravagant. I consider it a necessity. You see, I cannot see my own feet. At first, diminishing visibility didn’t stop me from hacking divots in my toes. My toenails resembled fence rails gnawed by farm animals. After many misadventures, I adopted a policy to not attack body parts with sharp instruments.
My desire for pedicures goes beyond the cosmetic. Honest, I don’t care if I have pretty feet. I do care that they’re intact and useful. I depend on my feet, my white cane and my guide dog for mobility. I depend on mobility to meet my needs. I would suffer by being laid up with any self-inflicted injuries.
Healthy feet are part of my comprehensive campaign to achieve and maintain physical and emotional health. I was sharing the details of my plan with the pedicurist. I told her I wanted to lose fifteen pounds from around my middle and she said, “Is that all?” Wounded, I grew sullen. When she asked if I wanted my nails buffed, I said only, “Yes.” And when she asked if I wanted them colored, I replied, “No. Red toenails frighten the dog.”
But I digress into a “dear Abby” letter. I’ve made my point about foot care for the visually impaired. Next installment, I promise to address more significant topics. For now, though, my question is, should I find a different pedicurist?