We recently returned from our 2nd beach vacation at Pirateland Camping Resort in Myrtle Beach, SC. Nine days of sand, sun and relaxation. Vacation wouldn't be complete without my mom. She's our "Nanny Granny" and the boys love having her there. She plays in the ocean with the boys, helps cook dinner with Kevin, and allows Kevin and I to have mini dates on our vacation. Our sweet Abby dog also came with us. Abby loves coming on our camping adventures.The problem with Abby, is that she is a bit bathroom shy. She requires privacy when doing her business. This year, she just couldn't seem to find her groove, and the ONLY place she would go, was when we would let her loose on her leash on nighttime and in the morning. Now, before you judge me, lemme say, we carried a shovel and poop bags with us during these escapades. I'm not proud of it, but after 3 days of her not going, we were getting desperate.
During our vacation, Mom celebrated her 60th Birthday! The morning of Mom's birthday, I woke up around 6am, and Mom and I decided to take a long walk on the beach. We grabbed Abby (and a poop bag) and set out. I had just unhooked Abby from her leash when I saw a group of people in green shirts walking towards us. I started calling Abby, but she of course, ignored me, and ran towards the new comers to say hello. Abby ran up to say hi to a woman, and you would have thought Abby were a 150lb beast. The woman looked angry, and said, "NO! NO!" I ran up and grabbed Abby while apologizing, but the woman cut me off. "Do you know that it is ILLEGAL for dogs to be off of leashes in SC, and that it carries a very heavy fine?" She then went on to tell me that she and her group were searching for turtle eggs on the beach, and that Abby could have damaged the eggs. At that moment, Abby decided she needed to poop; right by crazy turtle lady. You could have fried an egg on my face. I handed Abby's leash to my mom, and collected Abby's poo. We decided to cut our walk short, and headed back to the camper.
After our beach walk debacle, Mom and I went to get pedicures. I had researched the best nail salons in Myrtle Beach, and this place called Royal Nails had won 2nd place. We walked in and were less than impressed, but we picked out our nail polish out and sat in the chair to soak our feet...And waited. And waited. And waited. After 40 minutes, my water was cold, and the massage chair was starting to make me feel nauseous. We watched two women walk in and sit down in the chairs and have their toes painted. Mom and I started getting the church giggles. I looked down, and noticed some part in my spa foot bath had fallen out and was laying in the water.
Commence more church giggles. After 50 minutes, a lady came over and started working on Mom's feet. Ten minutes later, the only white woman in the place came to do mine. I'm just gonna be honest. I prefer an Asian nail tech. Anywho, this woman was in her 50s, and had the 80s style frosted hair. I don't know if she was having a bad day, or just hated her job, but she was very rough with my feet. When it was time to switch feet, she'd say, "NEXT!" She had a scowl on her face, and the only time showed any effort was when she decided to take the humus block to my all most healed blister on the top of my top. "She must think it's a callous," I thought. "It's a healed blister," I told her, after wincing in pain. She looked up, "Does it hurt?" "Yes! Very badly." She sighed, and after she half heartedly rinsed off my legs, took out her frustration (with the nail file) on my toes. A quick paint job, and she said, "You can get up and go sit over there." No offer to help me out of the chair or carry my purse. She rinsed out my tub, and then walked over with her hand outstretched. "25 Dollars." "Oh, I'm paying for my Mom's too." "50 Dollars." At this point, I felt that I surely must be on one of those hidden camera shows that sees how much people can take before they explode. She walked back, handed me my receipt, and stood over me, tapping my credit card as I signed and filled in the tip. Girlfriend got $2. $2 too much, but I felt I had to give her something. Mom's girl got a good tip. Mom and I walked out, and decided with how short our toe nails were, we would be good until the Fall.
|Mom's painfully short nails|
|My blister oozed for the next hour.|
|Have you ever seen a nail filed so painfully short?|
Mr. Man to the rescue. When we got home, I told Mr. Man we needed to call and demand our money back. Unfortunately, the person who answered the phone was still mastering English.
Mr. Man: Yes, I need to speak to a manager please.
Nail Person: You want to come in for manicure?
Mr. Man: No, I want to speak to a manager. Manager.
Nail Person: Oh, I manager!
Mr. Man: Yes, my wife just came in, and she is not very happy.
Nail Person: Oh! She very happy?
Mr. Man: NO! She is NOT happy. NOT HAPPY!
Nail Person: Oh, she come back in, we fix! Okay?
Mr. Man: No. Not okay. The person was very rude and rough.
Nail Person: She come in, and we fix, okay?
Mr. Man: There's nothing left to fix! They cut her nail down to the quick. Can you REGROW her nails.
Nail Person: Oh, no...
At this point, Mr. Man hung up, and we all started laughing. "Hon! I can't do anything when there's a language barrier!"
Up next on our birthday adventure, Mom told me she wanted to take me to get fitted for a new bra. I loathe bra shopping, especially since I've gained 30 lbs in the past 3 yrs. I've always been self conscious about my larger chest, and with the extra weight, a part of me just didn't want to know what size I really was. Mom assured me that the lady would just measure me, and we'd go from there. Wrong. Bra lady and I go into a dressing room where she instructs me to take my shirt off. "Uh, huh, uh huh. Okay, be right back Hon!" She goes out, and knocks back on the door. "Turn around, and face the wall Hon." Bra lady proceeds to unhook my bra, and put the new one on, adjusting the straps. "Okay! How's that feel?" I look in the mirror, and the bra looks comically large. "It's too big!" I protest.
"Hon, it's not. You were just spilling out of the other one." Bra Lady was patient and sweet. She had this air about her where she didn't make me feel completely exposed as she put different bras on me, and commented how certain ones "smoothed my back fat."
45 min later, I walked out with three new bras. I don't know why it was so emotionally draining. Maybe because for 3 yrs, I've been saying I'll lose the weight, and get back down to a size 6, or that going up that cup size and number were new territory for me. It was hard to swallow, but I'm happy Mom pushed me to do it. My shirts fit me better, my girls got a lift, and my back fat is less apparent. =)
To be continued...........