My first pedicure at age 65! I figured it was time. After decades of pounding pavement ,my feet had basically become concrete blocks with toenails attached. If feet could file for workers comp, mine would’ve retired in the ‘90s.. I walk in, and the pedicurist takes one look at me… then at my feet… then back at me. It was the same look a mechanic gives when you bring in a car making “that noise” since the Clinton administration. She didn’t even flinch — just wheeled over a cart of tools that looked like they belonged in aisle 12 at Home Depot. Out came the files, scrapers, buzzers — I’m 90% sure she had a belt sander in there. At one point, I think OSHA should’ve been called. She starts filing and the dust flying off my feet looked like a scene from an Indiana Jones movie. Layers of history. There goes the 1987 Chicago Marathon. Ah, the blister of Boston ’94. If she kept going, I was pretty sure she’d find hieroglyphics. And then the toenails… look, these things were not nails. They were talons. If I’d perched on a tree branch, no one would’ve questioned it. She somehow transformed them from “prehistoric bird of prey” into “human being who owns shoes.” That alone deserves sainthood. But the grand finale? The calf massage. Sweet. Mother. Of. Bliss. For three whole minutes, I thought I had transcended this earthly plane. If she had asked me for my credit card, my Social Security number, or even my Netflix password, I would’ve handed it all over. Now my feet feel so light, I honestly think I could run another marathon. Realistically, I’ll settle for a power-walk to the mailbox without groaning like an old floorboard — but hey, progress. So tell me — what’s one thing you tried later in life that made you think, “Why in the world didn’t I do this decades ago?”
