This little piggy went to market, this little piggy stayed home, this little piggy had roast beef, this little piggy had none. But my little piggies, instead of crying wee, wee, wee all the way home, said the hell with it and went for a pedicure.
My wife, Sue, who gets pedicures all the time and whose feet are beautiful, thinks mine aren’t. So, to convince her that a little pampering wouldn’t be like putting lipstick on a pig, I arranged to be beautiful, too, by having shiny red nail polish put on my piggies.
I put my best foot forward, followed by the other one, when my office was visited recently by Marianella Aguirre and Jennifer Yepez of Green Spa on the Go, a mobile spa and nail studio in Forest Hills, New York.
Employees could get manicures or pedicures. Even though this is a digital age, and my digits sometimes have hangnails, I decided not to put the man in manicure and instead wanted a trained professional to cure the two titanic tootsies that make me a biped.
That unenviable task fell to Jennifer, who is 28 and has been working at the spa for a year.
“I like your socks,” she said, pointing to hosiery embroidered with fish.
“I’m not wearing socks,” I replied. “The doctor says this rash should clear up in a couple of weeks.”
Jennifer looked stunned.
“I hope you don’t think my feet smell like fish,” I told her.
“No,” she said with a smile of relief as I removed my socks.
“Still,” I noted, “you should have worn a gas mask.”
“Your feet aren’t so bad,” said Marianella, 39, who owns Green Spa on the Go.
“My wife thinks I have the ugliest feet on earth,” I said.
“Don’t worry,” Marianella responded. “Jennifer will make them beautiful.”
And she did. It took a lot of work, but Jennifer’s expert technique rubbed me the right way.
“Be careful,” I warned. “I’m ticklish.”
“OK,” she said, giggling along with me as she massaged my right foot, which she anointed with cream and oil after clipping my toenails and using a pusher to clean them.
“They’re too cuticle for words,” I declared.
They were doubly so after Jennifer performed the same wonderful routine on my left foot (not starring Daniel Day-Lewis).
As Jennifer worked her magic, Marianella told me that Green Spa on the Go has clients throughout the metropolitan area, including my hometown of Stamford, Connecticut, and that some of her most notable customers have been former New York Knicks stars Kurt Thomas and J.R. Smith.
“Those guys are huge,” Marianella said. “Their feet are really challenging.”
“Bigger than mine?” I asked, adding that they are size 11.
“Yours are baby feet,” she assured me.
And, baby, did they feel good. Now all I needed was nail polish.
“Men are going with bright colors these days,” Marianella said. “How about red?”
“Why not?” I replied, choosing the shiniest shade, which Jennifer expertly applied to my nails.
“They glow!” I chirped, paying Marianella a bargain price of $20 and giving a nice tip to Jennifer, who in turn gave me a pair of banana yellow, open-toed pedicure slippers, which I had to wear until the polish dried.
When my colleagues saw my glossy hoofs, they could barely contain their excitement.
“Wow!” Kevin gushed.
“I love your toes!” Francesca enthused.
“You have nice feet for a guy!” Janelle exclaimed.
The person I really wanted to impress was Sue. When my shift was over, I put my socks and shoes back on and drove home, where I told her about my pedicure.
“Don’t tell me you got nail polish, too,” she said.
“Yes,” I replied. “Red.”
“Oh, my God,” she said. “Let me see.”
I took off my shoes and socks. Sue looked down.
“What can I say?” she did say. “They’re lovely.”
“Too bad it’s not summer,” I said. “Then the whole world would see that I no longer have the ugliest feet on earth.”