There's a good reason for that. I don't do those things. Not at all. I am an embarrassment to my sister, who does all those things very well.
Of course, one might have seen this coming from early on. My sister, who is 18 months younger, had to teach me how to play with dolls. I didn't acknowledge their existence.
There have been occasions where I've had moments in the fashion sun, usually motivated and assisted by a friend or my sister, but they fizzled out very quickly. I got fake nails once, but I don't garden well with fake nails.
When it comes to fashion, I make an attempt to be cool. But I pretty much fail miserably. I have friends who shop at thrift stores and pull together the most amazing outfits. Not me. I went to college in the grunge faze. My friend Meg was trendy and cute and oh-so-fashionable in her flannel. I looked like a homeless logger. My fashion sense has not improved with age. I've taken to referring to myself as "The Frumpy Farmwife".
I got my first pedicure the night before I got married. And it was awesome! Hubby bought me another pedicure just before Kiddo1 was born. (Always nice to have pretty toes in the stirrups...) Kiddo2 came early, no time for a pedicure...shucks. Kiddo3 was a scheduled c-section (thanks to Kiddo2) so right after I my delivery appointment was made, I made a pedicure appointment.
And that has been the sum total of the pedicures in my life. Apparently, I only get pedicures for life-changing events.
This month is my favorite farmwife's birthday. She and I are co-laborers, each slaving away on our own farms. With husbands that are machinists...we've started a support group. Between us we have seven kids, from 10 to 19 months. And, being that it is the end of the summer season, we are tired. Deep down tired. So she told her husband that she wanted to have a spa day with me for her birthday. There were no openings for massages, so we just booked pedicures. But we booked the spa pedicures.
You do have to understand that I beat the heck out of my feet. These are the shoes I usually wear while working on the farm. (And I don't wear socks as long unless there is snow on the ground.)
And I put a lot of miles on those shoes. The other day we butchered chickens and I wore a pedometer just to see and I walked over 14,000 steps, and I stand and eviscerate the chickens. (That's over 7 miles in just a routine day of farm work!)
So my feet take a beating. I try and keep some polish on them just to have something pretty to look at.
(You know you love those tan lines. I've got some at my ankles as well!)
The bottoms of my feet take the worst of it. I have a brush in my shower just to scrub the bottom of them clean!
When we were just married, Hubby and I were snuggling in bed and he rubbed his feet lovingly against mine. He whispered in my ear, "Honey, you don't have to wear socks to bed." And I whispered, "I'm not wearing socks."
Do you see what kind of shape my feet are in?
I slipped my feet into sandals I've had since 2004, (Yes, the Fumpy Farmwife needs new sandals as well...) and headed to town!
First, we went to lunch. By ourselves. It was glorious. We didn't have to cut anyone's food, blow on it, wipe up anything or anyone. See? No sippy cups in sight! And we didn't have to jump up to get things...they brought everything to us! (I need to see about getting a waiter at home...)
And we even ordered dessert. And we ate is all. Because there are no calories for mamas when they are eating in a restaurant without their children.
Then we waddled over to the spa for our pedicures.
A whole hour of conversation with my favorite farmwife. A whole hour of relaxing, massaging chair sitting. (I haven't sat for a whole hour since March.) A whole hour of having the most used and abused part of my body rubbed and oiled and scrubbed and pumiced and jack hammered.
I was a bit concerned that it would be a repeat of that scene from Dumb and Dumber...
You cannot know the joy of just sitting there and watching this.
My favorite farmwife chose a tame and pretty shade of pink. I went for some striking color.
(I was telling my favorite farmwife that my sandals were very old, she thought for a minute "I've bought these before I got married. And that was 18 years ago!") For sure the Frumpy Farmwife and her favorite farmwife's next mission is shoe shopping.
Don't those moms and wives look so much more relaxed and rested?
I came home and showed off my new toes.
The kids were amazed. Kiddo2 checks my toes every morning and says, "There's those blue toes again!"