About a year ago my Podiatrist told me that I needed to have my toenails manicured professionally, since I acquired Type II Diabetes. He didn't want me losing toes, feet, legs, etc. from using a chainsaw, pocket knife or wood rasp anymore. I felt a little iffy about such a thing, being the manly man that I am, but I relented and found a reputable establishment that could take care of my needs.
I think they sensed my tension, so they took pains to make sure I was comfortable and the electric massager in the chair was perfect before undertaking their task at hand. It's probably a good thing that they were speaking to each other in Vietnamese, because I'm sure they were making commentary about the nervous guy in the chair with his naked feet soaking in hot, bubbling water.
By the time all the clipping and filing was done I had calmed down a lot. Then the lady started scraping the bottoms of my feet with a scrubber to get all the useless skin off. She might as well have tried working on a wet cat when I came up out of the chair. It tickled torturously.
Then came the massage of the calves and the feet with gritty lotion and then nice bubble gum-smelling lotion. I melted back into the chair in a stupor. Manly man or not, this could become a habit, I thought. It's all in the name of good health, after all.
It has been a monthly ritual for over a year now. Today all but one of the pedicure clients in the shop were men. One teenage kid was nervously experiencing his first pedicure. He lost some sort of bet with his mom and ended up having to get one with her. He'll learn.
I haven't had to sharpen a chain or knife blade in a very long time now and I still have all my toes to prove it!