Zero Gravity
I have recently returned from a state of supreme happiness, also known as paradise.
And I’m always amazed how quickly a daunting stack of mail can snap me back to relative happiness as opposed to 8 glorious days of supreme happiness.
Of course, I am not complaining. I am not a complainer.
But let me just point out one little detail that brought me dangerously close to the jagged rocks of complainerdom (that’s a made up word in case you hadn’t noticed).
It was a pedicure.
Specifically, a pedicure in a zero gravity chair.
Pedicures – in most situations except for those occasions that English is not spoken and I have trouble making the pedicurist understand that I do NOT want the electric sander or the pointy nippers anywhere near my cuticles – are soothing and wonderful. They make me feel pampered and special and pro-active in the fight against gnarly, aging feet and…well…aging in general. Maybe I’m unique in feeling this way but, truth be told, I take pride in trying to keep myself looking younger than I am and I resent people bursting my bubble, you know? It is my constitutional right to live in denial if I choose to.
Enter the zero gravity chair and my pedicure in paradise.
DARLING YOUNG PEDICURIST:
Have you ever been in one of these?
ME:
A chair? Yes. I’ve been know to sit.
DARLING YOUNG PEDICURIST:
This is special. It’s a zero gravity chair. I think you’ll like it but sometimes people get all freaked out and can’t deal with it and try to jump out of it.
ME:
Sounds fun. Sign me up. I love to lose it while I’m on a relaxing vacation.
So…this darling girl reclines me. And reclines me some more. Then my feet are actually above my heart (which is really a soothing position) and I feel quite nice.
DARLING YOUNG PEDICURIST:
It feels like you’re floating, huh?
ME:
Hmm…yeah. I kinda like it.
By this time, the urge to flee has subsided and I’m starting to dig this groovy chair. I take a few deep breaths, relax, take in the earthy aroma of patchouli and sandalwood being pumped into the place by discreetly placed diffusers.
ME:
This is nice
I sink a bit more into the comfy folds of the chair. Oh, yeaaaah. Zero Gravity. My neck muscles, which generally have the turning radius of two freshly hung 2 x 4s, begin to soften. My spine feels awesome like I may actually be getting taller. What a great marketing tool to pull in the vertically challenged. This is brilliant!
ME:
I guess this is what the astronauts felt like when they first went into space.
DARLING YOUNG PEDICURIST:
Well, to me it just feel like….floating.
ME:
As in zero gravity. As in what it feels like to be in space. Thus the name, right?
DARLING YOUNG PEDICURIST:
Uh huh. Would you like something to drink? Green tea? Chai?
ME:
How about some Tang?
DARLING YOUNG PEDICURIST:
What? Is that like, a new thing?
ME:
You know…Tang!? Get it? The drink of the astronauts? Early space travel?
DARLING YOUNG PEDICURIST:
Oh. Uh….like, maybe my mom knows about that.
Shit!
I try to change the subject.
ME:
You know, this may sound crazy but I feel like I’m getting taller being reclined like this .
DARLING YOUNG PEDICURIST:
How cool, huh? They say you shrink as you get older.
My temporary bliss falls to earth with a glorious thud.
ME:
Just don’t use those pointy nippers, okay?
Welcome home…by the way, I used to spoon Tang out of the pretty green and orange jaw and it. I know, your not the least bit shocked.
oops, didnt quite proof read that. I meant orange jar, and eat it. Good Lord, I am going to bed.
Yes…I can see you doing this. I can also see you spooning it out of a pretty green jaw as well, sicko. hehe
I want one of those chairs.
My grandparents us to keep a couple of bricks under the foot of the bed to elevate it. The doctor had told them this was good for their circulation.
Kitty…There’s something to those ole-time remedies! All the modern stuff seems to be based on something grandpa did. Although, this did remind me of a joke about an old couple. The husband was short and the wife was tall. Their birth control method was sex standing up. The husband would stand on a bucket behind the wife. When the husband’s eyes would start to go crossed, the wife would kick the bucket out from under him.
I do not know why your post reminded me of this. Hmmm…..
You are friggin HILARIOUS! Could you bottle that delicious humor? I’d buy it by the gallons.
Please send check or money order for $29.95 plus $2.95 for shipping and handling…..
I have begun to rely heavily on your encouragement, Sharona. Just let me know when it becomes a burden and I’ll switch to mundane observations about wall color and toaster pastries and forget that I have a profound fear of…shit….I’m not sure what. Everything??
Did she call you “ma’am” too?
Michele….I’m not sure. Right after I told her not to use the nippers, I put on my iPod and turned up the volume. Johnny Mathis listened to at a high decibel level can make you forget just about anything.
Don’t feel bad. I went to lunch with our father one day and the lady at the register asked if my husband and I would like a Senior Discount card. That was not a good day for me.
Ohhhh my. You win. I shall cease my belly aching….but one last parting story for good measure: Joe Rombi’s dad Frank thought Jennifer was my daughter.
Big sigh.