POINTING A FINGER AT NAIL SALONS' BAD HYGIENE.

Byline: Jill O'Connor

Manicures and pedicures are more popular than ever, but I just have this thing about not wanting people to prod me with tiny sticks.

And if it's not a medical establishment, I certainly don't want the salon employees accidentally drawing any blood from my raggedy cuticles. (I don't go to barbers for blood-lettings when I'm feeling under the weather, either.)

But as a reasonably fashion-conscious woman, I find I'm very much in the minority.

I've had all of one manicure, and that was for my wedding -- and nearly by force -- since the maid of honor and my mom had an inkling that everyone just might be looking at the ring, and, to their great horror, my obscenely naked nail plates.

The cheap but highly rated salon of their choice contained an autoclave, which was some comfort, until I learned the sterilizing chambers are unregulated in some states, and thus not of great use, since there's no official accountability for the temperature of this newly trendy salon device. (Hepatitis, here I come?)

Hygiene-wise, my gut instinct is that manicures and pedicures are no different from having your vaccinations done at the pizza parlor. A friendly neighborhood joint, but with no connection to the medical field whatsoever -- and with the potential to make various nameless citizens who pass through the doors ooze with pus and drip blood. I mean, masseuses often get more training, and they're just doing back rubs.

At the front of the shop, I purchased all my own pieces of nail salon weaponry -- including the formaldehyde-laced lacquer (perhaps used to confuse and weaken the victim) and, of course, that wooden spear-thing, and requested that my cuticles not be trimmed. This was obviously a compromise, though, since I was informed ahead of time I couldn't bring along a top-rated surgeon with a team of nurses to ensure all safety measures were observed and that I was in a state-certified ``Boy in the Plastic Bubble'' environment.

And though I may be a hypochondriac, at least I'm not a masochist.

What can we say about these millions of American women who regularly step into a small, poorly ventilated room full of glue fumes to have strangers attack their tender nail folds?

And why are these places not near the bondage shops? Where else should you put a place where you are gently stabbed, but not till you're first forced to drag your nails across a chalkboard? (OK, it's an emery board. But close enough.)

Binding and gagging the clients can't be far behind, though they'd leave with much less pretty fingers and toes.

At least the shops stop short of the time-honored torture tradition of ripping out fingernails, since that's reserved for the dermatologist, who takes on the task after an acrylic-nail addict harbors a nasty fungus under her salon-built talons a little too long.

I've always feared getting warts, hepatitis and cooties from unsterilized implements at the salons, and there is indeed an apparent risk of just that, with cooties possibly the leading danger.

Though manicure fads go way back, purportedly to ancient Babylonia, Egypt and China, the recent popularity of the treatments has inspired a few rules that go beyond the trends.

But the state is out to protect you -- well, sort of. According to the California State Board of Barbering and Cosmetology's rules and regulations, the chapter ``confers no authority to practice medicine or surgery.''

It's good to know the nail shops are prevented from getting too medieval, as are barbers, who in the Middle Ages were in fact the surgeons of choice -- hey, they had the big blades. But it's sad to note that any barbers or cosmetologists today might in fact need to be told not to step in for, say, a pediatrician or thoracic surgeon.

Should I ever be in dire need of a professional pedicure, I know the Golden State has at least strictly forbidden salons from scraping off the bottoms of my feet with a razor.

Whatever will the dainty- toed masochists do for fun?

For now, only my cat gets the manicures and toenail trimmings, which, in her case, are done in a veterinary clinic -- which of course, is kind of close to a being a human doctor's office.

Maybe I'll just have to see if they can squeeze me in, too.

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Photo:

no caption (someone getting a manicure)