To pedicure or not...

I got a pedicure today. The first of the season and I think the last. I don't really like the whole someone-sitting-at-my-feet situation. It's probably the socialist, or the Dane in me, we always did our own nails growing up. In fact, I don't remember ever hearing about a place where you could get a pedicure in Copenhagen back then. But I'm sure they exist now. It's gotten so worldly.

I went to a place at Har-mar run by Asians, I didn't recognize the language, not that I would, but I'm always just a bit offended when I walk in and you see a line of white women (just like me mind you) in big lazy-boy-type-pedi-thrones with small, brown people industriously working at their feet. I get colonialism vibes or something.

Nevertheless, I decided that with yesterday's insult to my peace of mind, I deserved pretty feet. I also have that wedding coming up in a couple of days. The person doing my pedicure was, to my surprise, a man. In his 40s I think. He was missing one finger on the left hand and his arms were full of tattoos. The most prominent on his left arm, it was a pair of hands joined in prayer. His left hand was missing half a finger.

Midway through the pedicure he did a foot and leg massage. He had nice strong, wiry hands and it felt great. Suddenly, I saw him flinch. He had to stop and adjust the joints of two of this fingers including the finger that was half size. I asked him if he was okay, he didn't speak much English but just said, I have problem. I said, please don't continue the massage if it hurts. He said, it's okay. I repeated, please just stop doing the massage part if you are hurting. He said, thank you. I watched him from behind my magazine and he continued quietly. Then it looked like he was about to cry. I was so filled with empathy I thought I was going to cry. What happened to this man. What or who hurt his hand? Did I offend him by addressing his pain?

I didn't get any polish. It's just too stinky. I kind of like my nails just clean and bare. I gave him a good tip and I was relieved to leave the chemical stench of the small shop. The place is in serious need of better ventilation. I think it's hazardous for the workers to be in those fumes all day.

Maybe I think too much and effectively ruined my own little treat to myself today. But I can't stop thinking about this man, his fingers, his prayer tattoo and his life spent in chemical fumes to make white women's nails pretty. What are we doing?