So, in the name of 'what goes around comes around,' I allowed dozens of fish to chow down on me. In fact, I paid for the privilege.
Up until I actually did it, I thought getting a fish pedicure was an absolutely brilliant idea. Going to a spa, sticking my feet into a little bath and letting dozens of fishies nibble off the dead skin sounded like a perfectly bizarre, only-in-Japan, experience. I held on to these positive feelings up until I was actually faced with the tub of fish. Remember the shrieking and the carrying on I did trying to get up the nerve to eat the live fish? Well, this was like that...x10.
I don't know what these insatiable fish eat in their natural habitat, but it seems they are positively mad for human foot skin. It's pretty much their favorite food. As soon as I lowered my foot into the bath, those little fuckers absolutely swarmed it, like Barbra Streisand walking into a gay bar. They immediately latched on, opening and closing their creepy little fish beaks, gorging themselves on my delicious calluses. It was repulsive. It really tickled. I became hysterical: laughing uncontrollably, squealing with disgust and causing my friends to look at me like I had lost my mind.
But it's sandal season and I really wanted my pedicure, dammit, so I managed to keep my feet (OK, only my heels, I couldn't handle the entire foot) in their food bowl for about 20 minutes. And you know what? Those fish did a horrible job! Despite the fact that they treated my feet like an all-you-can-eat-salad bar at the Sizzler, they weren't even a teeny tiny bit smoother.
The moral of this story: What goes around comes around: You eat the live fish, the live fish will eat you.
The reality of this story: Fish? Not so good at giving pedicures.
