Sunday, May 22, 2011

Why, on earth, a pedicure ?

This post is a vain rant against the female invasion , nay takeover, of the street barber. Evidence of the extreme intellectual rigour of this blog. Needling fair ladies, who throng this space :) is an occasional pastime of this blogger. Considering that its been a while since the opposite sex was needled here, and considering his rather impish mood today, its time to risk life and limb again.

There was a time, not so long ago, when the barber down the street was exclusively a male preserve. Indian women of that vintage, let their hair down (literally, but never, figuratively) and had no use for that specimen, who had the artistry of a butcher.  Men could go there in peace and submit themselves to the shears, while engaging in discussions exclusively masculine in nature. Alas , no longer.

The blasted guy has metamorphed into a 'unisex salon". Or a "spa", Or a "beauty therapist". I understand none of these words and had to look them up. These places are now well on their way to being a 99% female preserve, with the poor male consigned to a single seat near the loo. While the men queue up for 2 hours to gain the attention of the solitary guy who condescends to cater to men (did that yesterday; hence this post !), various Rajalakshmis breeze in and out, for all sorts of "beauty treatments". I had the urge to quip that their beauty would be better served by a few hours in the gym rather than here, but then wisely refrained given the substantial body mass disadvantage that I have.

And what all do they do in this place. I shall desist from graphic description of what  goes on - suffice to say that seeing a Rajalakshmi in that state is enough to drive men off the female species forever. But what completely boggles me is the pedicure.

Why on earth would any woman want to tend to her toenails ? I once asked this question to a lady , while offering the brilliant insight that a male would never bring his eyes down to look at her feet, he being preoccupied at a rather higher level. She looked at me pityingly and gave me an even more brilliant insight. She disabused me entirely of the notion that women are in the least interested in looking pretty to a man. Apparently they are strictly in the business of catching the eye of other women (perhaps with a hint of jealousy). Ah; I never realised that before (male ego completely deflated).

So the pedicure rules supreme. Cut your nails. Soak your feet in water, Apply some goo. Get your feet tickled. And dump a whole wad of cash for that privilege. Eeks.

Yes, I know. Women are from Venus. 

PS : Comments to the effect that "metrosexuals" also indulge in this abomination are entirely unacceptable on the grounds that they are not members of homo sapiens masculinitis.