The pedicure craze

Before we left for our trip to the Midwest, Valerie came home with a pedicure.

A what?

A pedicure. This is where a woman gets her toenails painted. I hear they do other things to "prep" your feet, but, bottom line: she comes home with painted toenails. Red. Blue. I've even seen a kind of silvery-green shade; reminds me of cat barf.

Valerie's toenails are now red-magenta.

"How much did it cost?"

"I'm not telling you."

This is when you realize that sensitivities are involved. My ever practical wife is participating in a necessary activity the importance of which she knows I could not grasp. She simply said:

"It's the thing to do these days."

So I decided to keep my eyes open on our trip for other instances of this kind of behavior. At airports. Art fairs. The wedding reception. The sorts of places where you see women milling around.

The trick is not to stare. Just swipe your eyes downwards while running your hand through your hair; that sort of thing. It's easy with a little practice.

The results of my survey: I would say nine out of ten women had pedicures.

NINE OUT OF TEN -- it's a downright pedicure craze! All kinds of painted toes running around out there!

I am happy to report that Valerie's painted toenails are growing on me. (Isn't the English language funny: "growing on me". Not growing on me; just growing on me. You know what I mean -- we are all English speakers).

I am relaxed about it. Because after 30 years of marriage, I know my wife's beauty is not skin deep. Her beauty is much deeper. She's a rare find, and she's evidence every day that God loves me beyond what I deserve.

And if she wants to paint her toenails red-magenta, I say go for it.

Logos2Go

Proverbs 5.18 May your fountain be blessed, and may you rejoice in the wife of your youth.