Let’s Get the Man Out of Manicure

Why is it that I’m comfortable with a man gynecologist but not a man manicurist?


You shave your legs when you’re going to the doctor but you REALLY shave your legs when you get a pedicure. They rub your legs up and down with lotion and you can’t help wonder as they chatter away in their exotic language if they are saying, “This one has stubble.”

I’ve been going to the same gynecologist for 13 years, he delivered one of my sons and I would guess he knows some of me better than most. For some reason, he being a man doesn’t bother me. I consider him a professional who went to medical school for many years and probably took a class in not thinking of us as women but patients or cadavers or whatever helps them keep that appropriate mental distance. I feel comfortable, well as comfortable as you can, during visits to his office.

Not the same when I go to the salon. I’m okay with one of the ladies painting my toes and fingers but my stomach clenches when I see that it is a man who is going to buff and polish. I mean, this is an intimate process. There is foot scrubbing and hand holding involved. And, you’re sitting across from each other for long stretches of time. Doctor’s visits are 10 minutes max and there is little face-to face interaction.

The last time when I called the salon for an appointment, I was asked if I had a preference as to who takes care of me. I responded, “Any of the ladies.” I flip flopped into the salon the next day for my pedicure and was escorted in by one of the pretty young ladies. When my toes were pink and shiny, she informed me that her friend was going to do my manicure. “Okay,” I thought until I saw her friend was the sole male in the place. What could I do at that point? So, I sat three inches across from him and he picked up my hand.

By the time I left, my shoulders were so tense, I could have used a massage. But I won’t even risk that.


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