panty dropper

i have been avoiding my usual nail salon ever since the panty dropper incident.  i only thank my stars that i was wearing underwear to begin with.


it started out like any other mani/pedi session.  treating my freak feet to some paid-for t-l-c while browsing a trash mag.  and then i met her.  actually, she forced herself on me.  we'll call her donna.  she was sitting beside me in the next chair and apparently had been reading over my shoulder.  she struck up conversation and began to tell me in the first 30 seconds of the ill-fated conception of her 4 year-old daughter (who happened to be playing on the floor beside her) and her current dating scene.  she's a single mom raising a sweet, seemingly shy little girl named...let's say...sarah.  providing anonymity for the sake of the little girl.

generally speaking, i love real conversations with strangers.  i love to know what makes 'em "tick" and what drives them in life.  in this instance, however, i felt pulled in too quickly and in a setting in which i think she ought not to have shared her secrets so...enthusiastically.  and loudly.  specifically in front of her daughter.  her daughter who speaks english and is not hard of hearing.

she told me of her baby-daddy's new wife, who is (obviously) way less attractive than donna believes herself to be.  but the sex was good.  she told me of her inability to find quality men who could handle a successful woman such as herself.  she couldn't understand why multiple of her dates called her "intense".  for the record - this woman is intense.  she finished her pedicure before i did and moved over to nails.  i breathed a sigh of relief, until she sent sarah over to me to show me her new pierced ears and fingernails.  donna yelled across the room, "if she weren't so chubby, she'd turn into a pretty girl."  she proceeded to call her daughter "chubs" for the remainder of the nail salon session.  i winced every time.

as it ends up, her manicurist is also to be mine and she decided that donna and i were now best friends, and therefore sat me beside donna to chat with her until it was time to have my own nails done.  i was held captive alongside this woman for 30 minutes.  donna proceeded to describe to me her dating debacles, the weak-minded, spineless men she couldn't get away from and who were, obviously, obsessed with her.  she then indicated that the only reason she didn't spend more time looking for quality men was because she is such a caring mother and doesn't want to take time away from her (chubby) daughter.

at this point in time, i am somewhat silent while the little girl runs around me, plays with my hair, removes my jewelry so that she can wear it, and sits in my lap.  apparently she's come out of her shell.  her mother doesn't blink an eye.  i indicate that i'm going to run to the women's room, having been held captive without relief for almost an hour at this point.  sarah hops off my lap and whispers in her mother's ear, "i have to go potty, too".  before i can register what is happening, donna has requested that i bring sarah with me, to the one-woman restroom, and make sure she washes her hands.  what the Hell?  how does this woman know i am not a child molester, or a freak, or some sort of dangerous female in sheep's clothing?  what is she thinking?

stunned, i feel i can do nothing but acquiesce.  and so i do.  the little girl takes my hand, and i uncomfortably walk her to the ladies room.  i open the door and she walks right in with me, hopping onto the toilet, disrobing appropriately, and doing her business.  when she's done, she hops off and suggests i potty on her potty to save water.  oh, man.  what to do?  i really have to go.

and so, after i help her to run the sink and reach the soap, i also do my business (wearing a dress, thank goodness, so there is some form of coverage) as quickly as humanly possible.  efficiency and modesty at its best.  after ensuring both our hands are washed and dried, we return to donna and she asks me, in a less-than-discreet voice, "she didn't go poop in front of you, did she?  i hope not."  i try to avoid looks from other salon patrons and quietly reply that no, nothing to worry about in that arena.  she says, "good" and carries on telling me about her love life.

eventually donna and sarah leave, thanking me for being a potty partner.  i finish my manicure and cannot wait to get outta there.

...i had nearly forgotten about this incident until the next time i show up for a manicure.  damnit.  the two of them were back, and i knew i was going to have to wait again.  my manicurist again pulls up a chair for me - against my assurances that it wasn't necessary - right beside donna and sarah.  aw, man.

donna seems thrilled to see me, announcing loudly, "sarah was hoping she would see you today!  she told her biological daddy all about you on the phone.  she thought you had the prettiest panties and wants a pair just like them."  i cringed.  without providing me enough time to reply - not that i would know how to respond - sarah grabs my hand and tells me she has to go potty again.  this time, i am prepared.  i have no need to "go" and can gracefully allow her to go potty all by her lonesome while waiting by the door to help her wash her hands afterward.  i have escaped!

after the second, more successful, potty adventure, donna concludes her manicure and goes to pay.  before she and sarah leave, she is sure to provide me with her business card.  "we'd love for you to come hang out with us any time.  we can do margheritas.  call us!"  ehh...

and so...business card carefully hidden in the bottom of my trash can, i have now avoided my nail salon for the past month.  despite the convenience, modernity, and relative value in their services, i cannot quite get past my awkward panty-dropper experience.  i shall avoid donna at all costs.  and i can only cross my fingers that sarah isn't often subjected to panty-dropping in front of strangers...and that, if she is, she doesn't make it a habit into later adolescence.