I couldn't breathe. The feeling came suddenly, and my vision began to blur, and the room spun. I thought it might be dehydration, but I told myself to sit a moment.
A few moments later, I began hyperventilating and sobbing uncontrollably. I had a panic attack.
After the incident, I spoke to my therapist about what happened. She then asked a question I've never wondered in my life, "What do you do for self-care?"
I have to be honest, men and Black men specifically, self-care can be a proposition that falls on deaf ears. Over the years, my self-care definitions might be bourbon, playing the PlayStation 4, and a few select OnlyFans pages, but I had to go beyond those few chosen areas.
So, instead of grabbing a bottle of Uncle Nearest or Jack Daniels, I decided to do the thing all the women do in my life when they talk about self-care: I went to get a mani-pedi.
I have these weird fears about moments like this. Wondering if, while getting my feet done, it would be such a challenge that the poor soul working on them would have to pull an electric sander out to shave down corns as Sha Nae Nae did on “Martin” (I also have a fear of getting a massage and in a moment of comfort letting one rip sounding like a machine gun only being able to respond like my Granny with, "Whoops, that got away from me!")
Luckily I had a friend in the field, Monique La'Belle of Pinch Nail Studios. She assured me I would be fine, and my nerves began to melt away during the process. The body had some responses that I had to apologize for. No, I didn't let one rip, but instead, I began laughing hysterically. I had no idea of the feeling of pampering. Not like Joaquin Phoenix's “Joker” laughing, but a weird joy.
Monique confessed that her male client base was around 5 percent, and I asked her why she feels that Black men have hesitation in doing things like this.
"Through my years of experience, I think men don't think of it as an option. There could be societal taboos thinking this may not be for them, but when the wives and girlfriends book a session for their husbands and boyfriends, they have the time of their lives,” she said.
I can concur. After getting over my phobia of showing my feet to people (they ain't ugly, they pretty darn cute, but I feel awkward doing it), I embraced the entire experience.
I told her I gave her carte blanche on what services I should get but only stopped when she asked if I wanted a "buff to a high shine" on my nails. I have to maintain just a little bit of street cred.
And just like that, as I sat in a chair with bubbling water on my feet, drinking a pear mimosa, I began to think about my stress management over the years. I thought about the number of times I refuse to travel unless I have a gig or show to make the trip worthwhile. I never thought about a vacation, just chilling, maybe because I didn't think I deserved it.
Then it hit me. Most of my anxiety and stress comes from this nagging voice telling me that everything I do isn't enough. And as I was getting some jelly-like substance rubbed on my dogs, I began to feel that I was enough and that my body wasn't a workhorse. I'm a Ferrari (okay, maybe a Toyota 4Runner) that needs maintenance and care to move correctly.
I finished my session, and not only do I plan to make this a routine like getting my haircuts, but I'm getting the men in my life these services as gift card options. Instead of that bottle of Jim Beam, I'm going to normalize getting them massages and mani-pedis.
Now, convincing my Dad to do this? Maybe not yet, but my brother is getting one for his birthday.
When I told Monique, she responded, "You should come when he gets his nails done too." I wouldn't miss it for anything.