Feerings
Today I had my nails done. That may sound like a frivolous activity but it really isn't. My real nails are atrocious. Full of ridges, weak. When I have my nails done I feel pretty. I can't always control my weight or my hair but I can have pretty nails. I used to have the same theory about earrings but now that I wear sweat pants every day earrings look pretty dumb.
Before I went to the nail salon I attended my scheduled physical therapy for the day. I have a ruptured disk which apparently isn't as scary as a ruptured comdom. My therapist, Scott, asked me what I was going to do for the remainder of the day. I explained that since he has done such a wonderful job on my back I could now sit up long enough to have my nails done.
Scott had picked up on a detail that has made me curious as well for some time. Why are all nail salons run by Asians? Naturally, Scott has never had his nails done but his wife had mentioned to him that every salon she had visited was run and staffed by Asians. I don't know the answer to this and frankly, it doesn't seem important in the long run. They do a wonderful job - isn't that all that counts? Still, I mentioned to Scott that while I was there I was always curious about their conversation. While they work on a room full of "round eyes" they chatter back and forth in their native tongue. More disturbing, they laugh a lot at the end of their sentences. I always imagine they are saying "Look, big fat round eye come back for nail job thinking it will make her look pretty! hahahahahahahahaha!"
I have visited this particular salon since I moved to Pennsylvania. After a while I have come to expect certain things. 1. The t.v. would be turned on and a soap opera would be playing and 2. The staff would be chattering in their own language about the silly round eyed women that want their nails done.
Today something different occurred. Sam, the only male employee (and the most sought after due to his skill) was having a quiet morning. He requested, I can only assume, the tv remote control from the young lady working on my claws. I don't know if the channel he brought up is on cable or if it was a special request but the entire room was under the spell of KARAOKE TV.
My mind ran back to a time when I was trying to teach my son to read. We bought computer "reading books" that displayed the words as the computer spoke. Did Sam consider this channel an avenue to help him learn Engrish? I noticed him stretching back in his chair, first humming, and then singing along.
I made a bet with myself how long it would take. It was song three.
Feelings.
Sam hummed. Then his quiet voice erupted.
Feerings. Nothing more than Feeeeerings. Feerings trying to forget our....feerings of looooove!
My spell was broken by Tiffany, the girl tackling my nails. Behind me a flamingly gay male walked in asking in a defiant tone if Lisa (another employee) would POSSIBLY have time to give him a manicure.
"Where do you work?" asked Tiffany.
"I write"
"Do you write for a company or yourself?"
"Myself, I guess. I used to write somewhere and I quit."
"What do you write?"
"Humor"
"What is....humor?"
Looking around the room I almost felt embarrassed to say, "Well, right now there is a LOT of humor" But I didn't say that.
I said, "When you find something along your day that makes you smile. It could be anything. Things that make you smile, that is humor"
She nodded. "I like to read but here I can't find many things I understand."
I was too shy to ask her where her homeland was so I could find something for her to read in her language.
So we sat silently for a bit and I hummed along with "You Light Up My Life" while watching the words light up in blue on the television screen.
Today I had my nails done. That may sound like a frivolous activity but it really isn't. My real nails are atrocious. Full of ridges, weak. When I have my nails done I feel pretty. I can't always control my weight or my hair but I can have pretty nails. I used to have the same theory about earrings but now that I wear sweat pants every day earrings look pretty dumb.
Before I went to the nail salon I attended my scheduled physical therapy for the day. I have a ruptured disk which apparently isn't as scary as a ruptured comdom. My therapist, Scott, asked me what I was going to do for the remainder of the day. I explained that since he has done such a wonderful job on my back I could now sit up long enough to have my nails done.
Scott had picked up on a detail that has made me curious as well for some time. Why are all nail salons run by Asians? Naturally, Scott has never had his nails done but his wife had mentioned to him that every salon she had visited was run and staffed by Asians. I don't know the answer to this and frankly, it doesn't seem important in the long run. They do a wonderful job - isn't that all that counts? Still, I mentioned to Scott that while I was there I was always curious about their conversation. While they work on a room full of "round eyes" they chatter back and forth in their native tongue. More disturbing, they laugh a lot at the end of their sentences. I always imagine they are saying "Look, big fat round eye come back for nail job thinking it will make her look pretty! hahahahahahahahaha!"
I have visited this particular salon since I moved to Pennsylvania. After a while I have come to expect certain things. 1. The t.v. would be turned on and a soap opera would be playing and 2. The staff would be chattering in their own language about the silly round eyed women that want their nails done.
Today something different occurred. Sam, the only male employee (and the most sought after due to his skill) was having a quiet morning. He requested, I can only assume, the tv remote control from the young lady working on my claws. I don't know if the channel he brought up is on cable or if it was a special request but the entire room was under the spell of KARAOKE TV.
My mind ran back to a time when I was trying to teach my son to read. We bought computer "reading books" that displayed the words as the computer spoke. Did Sam consider this channel an avenue to help him learn Engrish? I noticed him stretching back in his chair, first humming, and then singing along.
I made a bet with myself how long it would take. It was song three.
Feelings.
Sam hummed. Then his quiet voice erupted.
Feerings. Nothing more than Feeeeerings. Feerings trying to forget our....feerings of looooove!
My spell was broken by Tiffany, the girl tackling my nails. Behind me a flamingly gay male walked in asking in a defiant tone if Lisa (another employee) would POSSIBLY have time to give him a manicure.
"Where do you work?" asked Tiffany.
"I write"
"Do you write for a company or yourself?"
"Myself, I guess. I used to write somewhere and I quit."
"What do you write?"
"Humor"
"What is....humor?"
Looking around the room I almost felt embarrassed to say, "Well, right now there is a LOT of humor" But I didn't say that.
I said, "When you find something along your day that makes you smile. It could be anything. Things that make you smile, that is humor"
She nodded. "I like to read but here I can't find many things I understand."
I was too shy to ask her where her homeland was so I could find something for her to read in her language.
So we sat silently for a bit and I hummed along with "You Light Up My Life" while watching the words light up in blue on the television screen.
posted by Victoria at 10:08 PM
0 comments
