From the “I can’t believe it” files…

Recently it was time for a much-needed  mani and pedi (which wifey knows I get, and is more-or-less OK with.)   I walked in, and my tech was finishing up a young girl, who was getting a manicure with beautiful turquoise polish.  So I sat down in the waiting area.  The young girl kept turning around to look my way for a double-take, then a triple-take, then a quad-take (as in “I can’t tell whether you are a boy or a girl.”   You’ve been in that situation at some point – you get the picture.)  Each time I smiled at her, and she looked away.  Her mother was sitting near by, quite oblivious.

Soon her mani was finished.  The tech moved her to the drying table, and moved me to the just-vacated chair, putting the girl and I less than 5 ft apart.   The double-takes continued, and I sweetly told her she was welcome to come watch them do my mani.  She had no reaction…but the double-takes did slow down after that.    About 10 minutes later, my tech asked me to wash my hands.  And while I was doing that, the young girl moved back to the mani table for a quick application of glitter to the ring finger on each hand.

When I came back, the little girl looked up as I told her that her color was very pretty, and the glitter was a perfect addition.  And I commented that she had beautiful nails – it turned out that they were quite long, too.   Well, my comments broke her indecision…she decided that I was a girl, and thanked me…then asked what color I would be getting.  I told her that someday I’d like to try her color, but today I was going with a translucent light pink.   Then I complimented her nail length, and she confided that it was her 9th birthday present – “they’re acrylic so they’ll last a while.” 

We did the usual birthday talk, and by this time she was chattering to me like a magpie, now that she was comfortable with my being female.   Then we started talking about Disney.  She has been there twice, been made over twice, and is looking forward to going again next year.  At that point, her mom looked over to inquire: “Ma’am, is she bothering you?”   I assured her “Not at all, hon.”  “In fact, we’re having a nice chat about Disney World.”  Well, that got her mother to join in the discussion about Disney.  Then a customer who had just entered the salon heard us comparing our experiences, and she announced that her family just got back home from there. So now, the count is up to: 3 adult ladies (myself included) and a 9-year-old, all comparing Disney notes. 

The little girl’s mom went so far as to assure me that in the future, whatever suitcase I put my dresses in (for the formal dinner at Cinderella’s Castle) should never be checked in an airliner or allowed to be moved by Disney personnel.  Hers went lost for several hours, almost causing a dinner crisis.  Which was averted by Disney locating the bag – it had been sent to  the wrong room.  This discussion went on for about 3 more minutes, till the tech finished my mani and started to move me to the pedi station, thus ending our confab.

As I left the room, both women said “see you next time, Ma’am.”  I replied “Looking forward to it, ladies, thanks”!

Wow…amazing, and I was wearing stirrup pants, turtleneck blouse, bare ankles, a women’s zip front hooded jacket, and flats.  Nothing girly like a dress.  I guess the fact that I was getting my nails done did the trick?   

It was my best nail salon visit in a long time…LOL!

2 thoughts on “From the “I can’t believe it” files…

  1. There is something that is just so nice that when we are out and about and accepted as a person of interest and dignity that we get joy, happiness and affirmance. It really is wonderful

    Like

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s