Whenever embarking on a new endeavor your supposed to go shopping for new outfits. When she and her Thelma-and-Louise buddy Pammy started going to an aerobics gym they first headed to the workout store and bought what they knew to be the proper "aerobic outfits". This consisted of new white cross trainer gym shoes with turquoise laces, leg warmers and head bands in hot pink. And finally, a leotard in spangly Phoenician royal purple. "You've got to look good to feel good especially in a co-ed workout session..." stated Nicole. I have enough sweat pants and sweat shirts for now. Maybe if I start getting "cut" I'll treat myself to spandex bike shorts and a wife-beater tank top. My favorite tank top was one I saw on a guy who was called for jury duty. As he walked forward to talk to the judge everyone in the court house started to titter. His tank top had a message on the back that said: "IF YOU CAN READ THIS THEN THE BITCH FELL OFF" I think he was a member of a coed motorcycle gang. The judge dismissed him.
Anyway, so I went in and signed up; did some stationary biking (didn't quite get up to my proper aerobic heart rate; but I will eventually) and did some weight machines. Since I have a recovering torn rotator cuff I couldn't do overhead presses, but I could do the bench presses. I also found a jiggy little machine that is a hand and arm crank. Like those guys on the racing yachts you see wildly cranking away to tighten the sheets or whatever. As I cranked away, I imagined I was on Larry Ellison's Oracle hydro-foil catamaran crew, flying across the water at 50 knots. "Stevens! Look lively on that hand crank are you a sailor or a land lubber!" I go back today for my official orientation. My workout counselor is a middle aged chinese lady named "Doha" or something. She probably knows Yubi Waza and Kung Fu--great... I think I'll crank some more today before the lactic acid build up takes over and turns my body into a stiff rictus of pain. I can feel it starting now. The last time I went to a gym, after the first session I lay on my sofa for three days, despite haranguing from my housemates. One of the nice things about this gym is they have great locker rooms with private shower stalls with dispensers of lemon/lime scented body wash. I may be showering four or five times a week now.
Basking in my after-workout endorphin glow, I decided to continue my transformation to a metro-sexual. I bought big fluffy new towels in mauve and ecru and I also bought some "product". I've got about a dozen or so hairs still clinging to the top of my head but they insist on standing up and it makes me look like a wanna-be member of Spanky and Our Gang. I got my hair cut at the two-vietnamese ladies-hair cut, body waxing (the men's special is called "back,sack and crack")... and nail care place. I had "Linda" put some gel on my head after my hair cut and those twelve angry hairs finally laid flat, for awhile anyway. Now lately it has been harder and harder for me to give myself a proper toenail cutting. With my unruly toenails and my foot neuropathy I'm afraid I'll clip into my flesh while trying to cut my toe nails. I got out of the barber chair and looked over in the corner. There sat a lovely barca lounger with a foot bath in front of it. I looked at the sign and it said "Full pedicure treatment for $25." I thought to myself, it's time to let a professional deal with my feet. I'm going for it. "Linda, I want you to give me a pedicure". She didn't object and since I had just had a shower with scented body wash my feet at least wouldn't smell.
I plopped into the chair (very comfy) and put my naked feet into the pedi-bath. Aaaahhhh, now were feeling good. "Would you like me to turn on the back massager?" "Oh yeah, I want the full treatment that my $25 buys. She pressed a button, smiled, and walked away leaving me to soak for a few minutes. Immediately I was mildly pummeled by the back of my chair. First the kneading then the vibrator. After a few minutes "Linda" came back and started to work on my feet. You can't beat Vietnamese ladies for no nonsense, professional foot care. After about a half hour of cutting, buffing, sanding and scraping she had my toes subdued and looking like fat little sticks of pink bubble gum. Then she pulled out the lotion and massaged my feet and lower legs while I sat there getting back massaged. Are we having big fun yet? "Toe nail painting comes with the price. How about I paint your nails in black and orange for Halloween?", said my pedicurist with a mischievous smile.
Still on my back massage and endorphin high, I told her to go for it. This will be a great chance to bond with my feminine side. She went to work. First came some clear liquid which I assume was a bonding agent of some kind. Then out came the orange and black polish bottles. She smiled impishly as she painted. "Oh, Mike, you gonna look so good for Halloween!" When she finished I had to sit there for fifteen minutes with the little puffs of foam rubber between my toes. I looked down and marveled at my beautiful new feet. I was sorry I wasn't limber enough to bend down and suck on my lovely orange and black toes. Maybe I can get Nicole to do it for me... I'm wearing flip flops around the house now so I can continue to admire my jiggy new toes. I once had a girl friend who was very tall with big hands and feet and my feet look just like hers used to. Lynn Cordell, I'm thinking about you, my old beauty. And I'm sorry that the bartender at Minerva's cafe with the dim lighting called you buddy.
I came home and cooked up a mighty pot of spaghetti swill. I used my coffee grinder to chop up some oregano and fennel seeds. I also had half a bag of lightly seasoned roasted garlic cloves. I threw them in the grinder and pressed the button. The result was akin to library paste and I had to use my forefinger to dig the stuff out and smear it into the spaghetti. I can't wait to see how it tastes tonight after everything has had a chance to mingle.
I keep looking down to admire my naked feet. That's it. I'm now a certified "pedi-file". ...
Love &Kisses, Mickey da Mayor
P.S. Aren't these babies kissable?
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