So the Death Wish Dude was very keen on trying out the fish pedicure spa in the shopping centre near us. Skaters suffer terribly with their feet apparently (and their hips, and their knees, but I don’t think there’s a fish for that yet). Anyhoo, yesterday, with his fellow skater dudes all still at school and the skate park quiet and empty, we decided to head over and have a go.
It all started quite well. We had our feet checked and then signed a medical form promising that we didn’t have all sorts of random viruses, warts, and pugnatious putrefractions (okay I made that last one up), and settled down with our feet in a nice warm cleansing bath.
We were then invited to pop our feet into the little fishy bath where the little nibblers (Turkish Garra Rufa fish – apparently they just love dead skin) started working away at our tootsies:
It was about then that all hell broke loose. An entire family of travellers entered the fish spa along with several hundred children and various sisters, mums and aunties. The young lady that was having the fish pedi sat next to me and proceeded to:
a: Scream. Long and loud. Oh, and shout ‘FECKING HELL I’M GUNNA BE SICK MAM!’ in my ear
b: Forget that she was about to be sick and conduct long and complicated conversations at great volume across me about a wedding with the various friends and relatives (who were a good ten feet away). I’m presuming that she was the bride. She was very chatty but we didn’t get in much of a conversation because she kept interrupting herself by yelling things like ‘ARGH THEY’RE CRAWLIN UP ME LEG MAM!’ I was worried because, sod the feet, she really needed to get her roots done if she was getting married on Saturday.
c: invite various smaller children to come and look. Two of them (young twin girls – bridesmaids, apparently) were both eating enormous hot dogs, and as they chewed, talked incredibly fast and looked at the fish, several bits of chewed hot dog escaped and fell into the fishy water. I’m presuming that since Garra Rufa fish eat foot skin, they’re not too fussy about the odd bit of hot dog, but I still thought this was a bit off.
d: shout at her relatives that she too wanted a hot dog, that her money was in her purse and could they put mustard on it. Sure enough, ten minutes later she was also chomping on a massive hot dog, dropping bits into the fish.
Anyway, the Dude and I settled into companionable silence (well, what else could we do in the circumstances) and tried to enjoy our fish Pedicure while the bride discussed the finer points of Chelsey’s underskirts and shouted at her family about Shane not having the right shoes.
It wasn’t exactly relaxing, but then I can’t entirely blame the fish for that. Our feet were quite soft afterwards, though…