But when it comes to scheduling an appointment, I fight. I mean, I really fight it. I just don’t want to do it. And if I do have to schedule one, I want to schedule it for a half hour from this very second or the very next afternoon at the absolute latest.
The funny thing is, my social calendar is generally completely bare.
But that’s not the point now is it?
Nope.
I want to do it when I want to do it- which happens to be at this very moment because I’m thinking about it right now and I don't want to have to think about it in 3 weeks when you can get me in.
Nope, NOW.
I have no idea where my intense dislike for appointments comes from, maybe I’ve been burned too many times where I’ve made an appointment for a future date and then I’ve had to miss out on something fun/better because of it?
I don’t know.
What I do know is, I don’t want to schedule an appointment for something mundane, only reasonable things- like seeing a dentist (but really, he’s booked for the next 3 months?? I think not, look again...I was thinking like next Tuesday- make it happen).
I’ve recently started going to a new place for pedicures. The place is great, they do a great job and it’s owned by a friend of a friend of mine so I feel better about supporting her but.... I need to schedule an appointment.
An appointment for a pedicure.
Um, what? That’s not really my flow, yo.
I’m more of a walk-in kinda girl but I can’t be if I continue to go there. And after 2 pedicures, it already feels suffocating (yep, an appointment for a pedi suffocates me, deal with it).
However, apparently I've lived under a rock for the first 29 years of my life or I'm just too cheap to get pedicures often whatevs, but she did this crazy vegetable peeler thingy to my feet and magically transformed them into silk. SILK I tell you.
Do you know what device I'm talking about?
I had no idea what she was asking me when she asked me if I was okay with her doing it, so I just shrugged my shoulders because I didn't want to look like a total idiot.
The next thing I know, she's holding my foot in the air and hacking away at it like a potato. A POTATO!!!
I was waiting for the blood to start spewing all over, but instead beautiful little curls of white chocolate started falling.
And of course, I'm mesmerized by the curls of white chocolate. Thinking "oh those little white chocolate curls are so pretty. They looks like they belong on a cake."
......Wait......
Where did the curls of white chocolate come from?
WHAT?! That's from my feet?
Panic mode sets it.
I started looking around for help but no one is looking so I have no choice but to act like I'm totally okay with her scalping the bottom of my feet.
The pedicure ends and I can't wait to look at the bottom of my feet to see what the hell she did to me but I then realize just how soft they are. Let me tell you honey my feet were like butter. Soft, 
silky butter.
Seriously, by the end of the day, I was like one drink away from making out with my own feet- they were so soft.
So now instead of looking at the polish of my french pedi (the only way to go), I'm more concerned with the bottom of my feet and can't wait for her to do this magical and yet oh so disgusting vegetable peeler thing.
Suddenly scheduling an appointment doesn't seem so bad when silk feet is the end result.
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