Beauty knoweth no pain

I agreed to have a pedicure.
If you know me, this is a rare. For several reasons:

• I don't care to have people touching my feet.
• The only other time I had a pedicure it hurt me and caused ingrown toenails.
• The massage part hurts and leaves bruises.
• In most cases, I do a much better job painting my nails.

Yeah. So. I went and had a pedicure. All the time telling myself: "Remember, Lindsay, these are your feet. Be assertive."

My anti-pedicure instincts are good, I tell you.

So while my pedicure companions either drank chai or were made to look like a baked potato (tinfoil on her head), my feet got soaked and filed.
The guy who gave the pedicure seemed competent, but these are the injuries I sustained:

• bleeding cuticle when trimmed too close
• side of my toe filed raw
• and, of course, the bruises from the massage

Apparently, I'm a pedicure wimp.

All of this reminds me of the oft-repeated mantra of a friend of mine:
"Beauty knoweth no pain."

• This is what you repeat to yourself when your new shoes are pinching and giving you blisters.
• This is what you remind your friend when her new wool clothes itch.
• This is what you moan as you pluck your eyebrows.
• This is what you hope when your hands are covered in henna and you cannot feed yourself.
• This is what you tell an 8 year old when she whines about brushing her hair.
• This applies in the case of the pedicure. For me, anyway.

Ah what lengths we go to, all in the name of beauty.