Thursday, June 17, 2004

High Maintenance - White Trash Style

As I type this, I am gazing contentendly down at my freshly painted toesies. Another nice gift that I received for my birthday - a gift certificate to the nail salon that happens to be inside the local Super Walmart.



Now, I have never really considered myself high maintenance, but you know, I think I am going to recant that. As I get older, I have begun to indulge in a few regularly scheduled maintenance services, but at rock-bottom prices. I am low-class high maintenance (if that catches on, you heard it here first).



For example - I do like to have my hair washed and trimmed in a salon on a fairly regular basis, but I generally go to Great Clips for $14.99. I am somewhat vain about the auburn in my hair, so I indulge in a color wash, but I do that at home in the shower with a $4.00 box of color from the CVS.



Going back to the pedicure - I dearly love to have a spa pedicure. Massage, full pedicure, heaven. I am completely content to sit in the the nail salon in front of the Walmart checkout lanes in a vibrating chair while a nice little person expertly lotions my heels and paints my nails for $20.00. I get my brows waxed there, too ($6.00).



My point is this . . . the other women that I know, the ones that I work with and live around keep the high-priced salons in business. They have a dedicated stylist, and colorist, and manicurist, and they buy very expensive clothing, shoes, etc.



Now, maybe I just don't have a keen enough eye, but I can't tell much difference between my haircuts and theirs, or my nails or theirs, or my clothes or theirs.



Maybe I am missing some part of the whole experience by going on the cheap. But to tell the truth, I think the frugality of it lessens the guilt for me. I have finally come to the point that I feel sure that I am worth taking care of, but within reason. I am not sure I could sit still for a $135 haircut and a $75 color. I think I would choke if I attempted to purchase a $35 bottle of shampoo.



I want to look like a million bucks, as long as it doesn't routinely cost me more than $19.95.



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