Mani Pedi Foot Massagee

I broke my self-imposed exile (five days at home not doing bupkis) and called a friend for a Day Out. One of the best parts of being here--affordable spa services. We went to Lily's Nails for mani-pedis and I threw in a head and neck massage as well as a foot massage. What bliss to be touched, kneaded and fondled--all at about 1 kuai per minute for each service. I have nasty little nails and equally nasty little feet but somehow with the aid of clippers, files, and what I suspect was a blow torch, my digits are looking quite presentable, even if OPI didn't carry that taupe nail polish I wanted to try.

As a single Mom who held down two jobs AND put herself through graduate school, twice, on her own dime, the opportunity for services like hair cuts, let alone pedicures, was rare, even in a place like China where these services have become big business. I don't have an expat life style: I'm not married to the bread winner and I have nothing in common with some of my acquaintances who go so far as to hire a masseur to come in daily and give them a massage before they even get out of bed. (I always want to ask, don't you get up and pee first, or brush your teeth? but it seems a bit rude). Frankly, I still need a haircut, and I pine for a trip to the spa where they have a big pool filled with tiny fish who live to nibble off your dead skin. I'd be like a AYCE buffet for those little darlings. You know you're middle aged when you see something pornographic and you're not marveling at how or why anyone would do that, bur rather on the quality of their skin. Look at that girl's ass! Not a clogged pore in sight! I wonder how often she exfoliates...

My bestie, The Rose, is so modest that I have never even seen his bare feet. I intend to force him to check into a real spa with me one day for the works--massages, flesh-nibbling fish, pedicures, all the manscaping he wants--and to see if this can turn his whiskey-soaked Irish heart towards hedonism. I kind of doubt it, but it would be fun to try. I have the sense of well-being that usually strikes only after a visit with Love Monkey (I won't dignify the relationship by calling him my boyfriend) and I hope that it lasts. Otherwise, gosh, I just might have to get on the train and hie myself away to Lily's for another trip to bliss. Ah, the wonders of being touched....I wonder if it's physically possible to be hooked on massage: I am actually craving it more than chocolate...