Tim Tebow, the New York Jets star who was recently traded from the Denver Broncos, has been mocked for his open displays of Christian faith on the playing field. He will get down on one knee, put his head to his hand and pray after a touchdown or field goal or whatever else happens in football.
I have no problem with anyone demonstrating their religious convictions on the field, in their home, on the street corner, at the mall, at Olive Garden. Freedom of speech and freedom of religion are supposed to be the fabric of our nation. If you want to pray, fine. If you want to mock the pray-er, I guess that's fine too. It's your
constitutional right.
But I do have a bit of a problem with Tim Tebow. And it has nothing to do with religion. The other day Tim Tebow was spotted in Los Angeles, not on a football field or in a church, but...
YIKES! At a salon! Reclining in a plush chair while receiving a mani-pedi!
I am all about equality. Men should have the same rights as women. If a man walks into a salon for a mani-pedi, he shouldn't be ignored or told to go hang out in a barber shop or a cigar shop or a corner office. He should be buffed and polished and pampered the same way a woman would be. If he calls up for an appointment, he shouldn't be put on a long waiting list while the salon takes care of its female clientele. The better, more expensive polishes should be just as available to him as to any other customer. He should be able to choose any color he wants. And if he asks for French tips? He should not be denied because of his sex.
A man should be able to break through the nail salon's glass ceiling. Most importantly, the manicurist should be able to freely discuss him in her native tongue with the other manicurists. And if the manicurists whisper something in their language while eying him and then bursting out in a fit of hysteria, so be it. Equality comes at a price.
But still, part of me cringes every time a man walks into a salon and asks for a 'mani-pedi.' There's something just plain unsettling with this request being made in a deep, masculine voice. Every time a man utters mani-pedi, John Wayne dies again.
Call me out fashioned, but...dare I say it? Sometimes it seems life was better in the good old days when there were no men in salons. When men wouldn't even set foot in a salon. When men thought a mani-pedi was some kind of ricotta-filled pasta.
I guess that makes me a bit of an anti-metrosexual. But I like old fashioned guys who clip their nails (just don't do it in our shared office—hint hint hubby). I like a guy who either shaves completely or doesn't shave at all. But that perfectly maintained two-day stubble that says I want to look like I don't care? Or that perfectly mussed-up hair that says I don't care, even though if you touch my head you'll discover that I've molded each strand into compliance with European product? Maybe that's fine for this generation of Justin Bieber and Robert Pattinson fans. But me? No thanks. I'd rather have a man cuss a blue streak than ever hear him utter the word, 'product.'
So Tim Tebow, it's great that you freely worship Jesus. But perhaps you should follow him a little more closely. You know, WWJD? Because I can guarantee one thing he never ever did—a mani-pedi.
