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A collection of tales from my many interesting nail salon experiences

One of my favorite things to do is get a pedicure, and more recently I’ve traded my nail polish collection for gel polish manicures. Mani/pedis are a small luxury that make me happy and relaxed. In all of my years of going to nail salons, on different coasts, in different states, I have had so many weird as fuck experiences. It’s like I’m a magnet for ridiculous nail salon experiences.

You and your mother have beautiful breasts

2010, when I lived in Washington and was pregnant with my oldest, my mom came to visit. Of course I had to bring her to my favorite nail salon, they were amazing. They gave the best massages, did a fantastic job, and were so nice.
My mother and I are both well endowed, and while one lady was doing my nails she whispered shyly to me “you and your mother have beautiful breasts.” Which could have been the end of this, because I had like no way to respond, other than thanks, I couldn’t say you too or tell her where to get boobs.
She said the same thing to my mom when it was my mom’s turn “you and your daughter have great breasts” my mom also thanked her.

The worst pedicure ever

The year is 2012 and I lived in Maryland. This experience is why I started my extensive nail polish collection, I was way too weirded out after this to get pedicures very often.
It was my anniversary, my husband was deployed, and Karina was at the babysitter. I decided to head over to the mall and do some shopping and get a pedicure.
I go in and it’s not crazy busy, and the lone male tech jumps up to do my nails. This is normal for me. Guaranteed if I go into a nail salon for a pedicure if there is a male nail tech, he will be the one to do my nails.
So all is going well, the guy is slightly creepy and is leering at me, but whatever, I was reading and on Facebook. Until it’s time to exfoliate. This dude rubbed my legs up past my knee like a cheesy 80s soft core porn, I was in shorts because it was August, then he had to spray it off and it looked like I wet my pants. I was unable to ignore this guy at this point and he creepily winked at me while he was rubbing my legs with lotion. Asking me “would you like it harder” with a knowing look, puke. Full on wannabe erotic shit.
I was frozen in shock. And never went back.

Her name was Giner

I found a salon I loved here in Georgia, owned by a husband, wife and her mother, they were the only workers, and all was going well until they hired a new lady. She told me her name was Ginger and started telling me about her life. A very sad, depressing life. She started crying and while I’m not heartless, I don’t know what to do when adult strangers cry while applying shellac to my nails. I felt bad but I’m not very comforting, I was like “maybe he’ll catch the clap” but she told me that then she’d get it too.
In my awkward “what the fuck do I do” mode where my eyes were darting around to find assistance, I saw her cosmetology license, which said her name was actually Giner. Not Ginger.
Anyway I doubled my normal tip amount and never went back. Later a friend told me that I likely got swindled because the same tech gave her a different story.

Diarrhea evacuation

After the Giner incident, I decided to go back to another salon I tried but didn’t love, and I’ve been going there ever since. Of course I’d be lying if I said this place was incident free.
One day this past fall I went in for a pedicure while both girls were at school. It was pretty normal, I was the only person in there under the age of 60 and it was quiet. Until one old lady got up and went into the bathroom.
The fan was broken or something and the scent that wafted into the salon is best described as foul. The techs all got up and went outside. I was gagging, but couldn’t get up without wrecking my polish, it was seriously like the basic bitch’s version of Sophie’s Choice, my nails or my nostrils.
I chose my nails.