An open letter to those who work at nail salons

An open letter to those who work at nail salons #realoilfieldwivesDear Ladies and Gentlemen Who Work At Nail Salons:

First off, I want to say thank you.  You massage my hands, arms, legs, and feet.  You make my nails look pretty.  Every time I look down at my pretty nails, it makes me happy.   Thank you for all of the prettiness and happiness.

I don’t mind our casual chit chat and it doesn’t bother me if you want to watch Maury Povich instead of talking to me.  I find the paternity testing as equally fascinating as you do.

I’m not sure if it is a cultural difference between us or that you just don’t care.  Either way, please stop with the super personal questions and/or statements.

When you ask me where my husband is and I say he travels a lot, the appropriate answer is NEVER, “You don’t mind he cheat on you?”

I still haven’t figured out if you were kidding, or if you assume if a man travels he cheats.  For the record, he doesn’t cheat on me.  I think I said those words back to you, but I was so taken aback by your question I can’t even remember how I responded.   I’m pretty sure it was something along the lines of a no.  We believe in this thing called marital vows and holy matrimony.

My friend Diana didn’t appreciate your statements last week.  There was no need to say, “You and your husband are big, but you have small babies.”  What is the correct response to that statement?  Do you say thank you?  Thank you for telling me something I wasn’t aware of.  I had no idea of my size even though my scale, mirror, jeans, and swimsuit all gave me a fairly good rendering.

That one day, when I told you, “STOP TALKING ABOUT ME” as you and your dad were chatting in your native tongue, I was kidding.  I didn’t think that you were actually talking about me.  Your frightened look and stumbling around for excuses on why you were talking about me just made everyone uncomfortable.  I could see the fear in your eyes as you were wondering if I understood your language.  Maybe I should have let you think I was proficient in it.  I’m not, but it might have been fun to let you think it for a while.  Can you refrain from gossiping about me to my face?  Just gossip behind my back like most people, this can be done in the bathroom, or the space in the back of the salon where you eat your lunch.

Another instance I really enjoyed our time together was a few months back.  Because of my unexplained infertility diagnosis, I am used to questions about why we don’t have children.  Bravo to you for taking this next level by repeating the same question over and over in rapid succession.  Do you have children?  Why you no have children?  How are old you?  (It was nice that you shuddered after hearing my age) You no like children?  Why you no have children?  Why you no like children?  I tried to answer your questions as best I could, but I really didn’t want to yell out my fertility issues in the middle of a crowded salon on a Saturday afternoon.  I do actually like children and hope to have some of my own one day.

My husband and I now regularly repeat this stuff as entertainment.  He asks, “You no like children?”  Then I respond with, “You no mind your husband cheat on you?”   It is gotten to be a joke in our household.  While I appreciate the humor you have added to our marriage, please refrain from doing this in the future.

The day the drummer from Aerosmith showed up at the nail salon was a big day for all of us.  I’m not sure how you knew he was famous, but you did.  I expected Joey Kramer and his wife would frequent a fancy salon and not “Beautiful Nail” home of the $29.99 pedicure.  There I was acting as if hanging out with Aerosmith is a normal occurrence in the life of me.  Can I tell you how much I appreciated the questions from you as they sat down 24 inches to my right?  They probably couldn’t hear you asking about them with questions such as: who is that, what is Aerosmith, what they sing, walk what way, walk this way, or walk away?

It is possible that I’m envious of your way of saying exactly what is on your mind.  I guess there is freedom in that.  I appreciate you adding humor to my marriage and providing excellent stories I can entertain my friends and family with.  I am thankful for the time you have spent on my hands and feet.  In an effort to move forward, let’s keep our conversations to a minimum.  No personal questions or statements please.  In fact, maybe next time we agree not to talk at all.  I’ll scroll through Facebook or text my friends and you can watch “Maury”.  I think we have a win-win right there.

Your Friend,

LC

Side note:  All of the above stories are true and happened in different places all across the great state of Texas.  They are the exception, not the rule.  Many people who do this job are hardworking and filled with compassion for others.  They also have to deal with mean and snooty patrons.  If I had to work with people like that every day, I might “accidently” stab someone with a set of nail scissors.  Plus, I still cannot believe how epic it was to get a pedicure next to the drummer from Aerosmith.

About LC

Howdy! LC and her Oilman live in the ‘burbs north of Austin, TX. She is a real estate broker, but you won’t find her face on a bus bench and she doesn't drive a Cadillac. Oilman works in Texas as a Completions Consultant. Don’t worry, most people don’t know what that title means either. LC calls him frac guru, for short. She may be the only woman in America that hated both "Twilight" AND "50 Shades of Grey". Oilman and LC like wine, good music, their two dogs, and cervezas in Central America. Follow the adventures of LC and Oilman at: www.LivingOilfieldLife.com or on Instagram at: living_oilfield_life

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