Dean is leaving for London in a few days, so he has been extra nice accompanying me more than usual.

Too bad for him I wanted to go for a pedicure that one day.

I asked him to get one with me, but apparently his macho-pedicure graph lines don’t align.

So he did the 2nd gay-est thing.

He read aloud questions from a female magazine quiz to see “What Type of Brat?” I was.

I did quite well for the quiz, mind you. Almost got full marks.

It was so kind of him to just chill with me, and humour me with all these girly stuff.

We told stories, we joked, we smiled at people who gave him funny looks for sitting in a female territory.

I stopped laughing when the pedicurist said something about corns.

“No thanks, I’m fasting.” Aww, so sweet of her to offer me some jagung. Random, I thought, but sweet.

Hmm corn in cup….haven’t had those in a long time!

She looked at me, confused. “No…corn. CORNNNN.”

I’m guessing she saw my confused face because she said flatly, “You have corns on your foot.”

“WHATTT!?!!!!!! HOW CAN?!!!” I shrieked defensively asked nicely. “I take good care of my feet! Always washing and scrubbing them. Let me see! Let me see!”

I retreated my foot from her, almost kicked her face with it.

I had to bend and twist my foot in ways it has never done before.

There it was. The bloody corn. It was a tiny round-shaped hard skin.

“Ewwwwww....I’m disgusting.”

She laughed.

“Nolah, it’s because of those.” She pointed to my Louboutin wedges on the side of the sink.

“What’s wrong with those?” I asked, obviously unhappy that she called my nice shoes “those”. They have names, you know. Pfftt.

“If you wear high heels so much, you will definitely develop these corns. Don’t wear it all the time. Not good to your feet, for your body, for your posture.”

I looked at her shoes. Flats….hmm….flats person. Must handle with care. Not on the same wavelength.

She probably didn’t know that I’ve been wearing heels since I was 12, and I thought at this moment, she doesn’t need to know that.

So I lied, “Ohhh yeah hah…Must stop wearing heels already after this.”

But I was more interested in getting rid of that ugly corn, so I asked her how to fix it.

“Don’t worry, it’s still small. You just have to stop wearing heels, and have to come here every week so I can scrub it for you.”

Clever saleswoman.

I never really noticed the corn, but now that I know of its evil existence, I can’t stop thinking about it!!

Corn, corn, go away. Come again another day.

Does anyone know a way to get rid of corns?

Something that doesn’t involve my bank account?