Interlude: I give up my Man Card

So The Girl's birthday was coming up. What did she want? Simple tastes, thankfully. Just a hair cut and pedicure from her favorite spa. I've never understood the appeal of the pedicure. Why would anyone take time out of their day to have a stranger mangle your feet? Why would you want a stranger touching your feet PERIOD? You know what, screw it, I need to see for myself. That's right kids, this has nothing to do with food. It is all about me getting a Manly Pedi.

Before I set off on this mission of metrosexual pampering, I took to my Twitter account (@Foodmancing) to run a poll of my faithful Twitterati as to the acceptance of men in the Pedibaths. WCIV's Laura Harris promised me it wouldn't be submitting myself to the Spanish Inquisition. I had my doubts, but off I went like Daniel into the lion's den.

The Girl took me to Bellezza in West Ashley. We are greeted by a charming young lady, and The Girl is whisked away for her trim. I am left to amuse myself in the waiting area.

5:30-5:35 pm: Thumb through Southern Living, learn how to lay out the perfect Derby Day spread

5:35-5:41 pm: Play solitaire on my iPhone, wonder why I never get the Two of Clubs when I need it

5:41-5:52 pm: Check ESPN Fantasy Baseball to see if Zimmerman is coming off the DL yet

5:52-5:57 pm: Re-deal solitaire until I get three Aces to start, fail to win game

5:57-6:05 pm: Find out Ben and Courtney are still engaged

6:05-6:08 pm: Search web to find out who Ben and Courtney are

6:08-6:15 pm: Thumb through Southern Living, find the ways that their Derby Day spread is flawed

6:15-6:30 pm: Engage in staring contest with Victoria Beckham, claim moral victory

FINALLY The Girl comes bouncing through with a fun new do. Yup, she got her hair done did, and it's fun and flirty, and I am way too engaged in her hair at this point due to shear boredom.

Her stylist, Dime (Think Penny from Big Bang Theory, with only half the ditz) leads us to the Throne Room. I lose my Top Siders, roll up my linen pants, and climb up onto a chair that looks equal parts Captain Kirk's command chair and ancient Chinese water-torture device. The lovely Dime starts up the Jacuzzi jets as I sink my battered and mangled feet into the hot water. Next thing I know I have a glass of wine in one hand, and what is left of my masculine self-respect in the other. Oh who cares, PAMPER ME!

The process in someways is very relaxing. The scrubbing of the scales on my heels lulls me to near catatonic trance. Then she clipped my nails (which was odd) and began filing my nails (CREEPY), then more scrubbys, followed by a foot and calf massage (Lubbly!).

After she pats my feet dry I feel light, almost bouncy. Sure, I may have forfeited all claims to masculinity, but damn my tootsies feel good. First day of The Girl's Birthday bash ends with me having pretty feet and buffed toes. I do believe I might just make it back before my feet look like Frodo's.  Just don't expect me to start watching Real Housewives or debating the merits of Dooney vs Coach.