“I’ll have the usual,” calls T. Lindeman as he walks into Coco Blue Nail Spa in Old City, Philadelphia. Led to his massage chair, Lindeman dips his feet into the steaming water and releases an indulgent sigh.

After the staff confirms his actual order, they get to work on Lindeman’s toes for a monthly ritual that began approximately six years ago.

“We go together,” explains Lindeman’s wife, L. Burton. “When we were still in the throes of courtship, he wanted to celebrate whenever I finished a rotation in my residency.

“I thought it would be funny to invite him once, but he’s really taken to it, and maybe taken it too far.”

Aside from one foot massage gone wrong in Wuhan during a trip to China, Lindeman had never previously pampered his feet. But after his first trip with Burton to the nail salon, he realized that there could actually be a treatment for the ingrown toenails he had developed from decades of rowing in shoes too small for him. He didn’t actually have to suffer his whole life.

“And you get to pick a color!” Lindeman remarks. “The color is free, you might as well get something fun.” Lindeman also often upgrades his lacquer to gel because he’s, in his own words, “worth it”.

“At first, it was a little strange,” says one of the stylists at the salon. “We were a little apprehensive about this giant man coming in for pedicures every few weeks. But there is certainly a benefit to having him as a client.”

The staff usually assign new employees to work on Lindeman as his size-15 toes provide a big canvas for them to work with. But on occasion, he throws them a curveball and asks for a design drawn on his big toes. With newbies at his feet, the results are mixed: perfectly drawn pumpkins for Halloween; unicorns intended to delight his nieces that look like monstrous blobs; a lovely sunflower for his wife; and classy tuxedo “tuxetoes” for his wedding. As the design requests became more intricate, the stylists would have to call over others to help them get it done well, requiring Lindeman to spread his gratuity around to more of the staff. But, again in his words, he is “worth it”.

However, it isn’t all silly designs and glamorous leg massages. Some parts of the experience are simply not intended for someone of Lindeman’s size. Each time he walks in, they seat him in a massage chair. And each time they try to move his chair back to give his legs more room. But even all the way back, his legs are so folded up that his knees are near his neck.

“It’s mostly fine,” claims Lindeman from behind his own legs. “I just can’t use a laptop pad for my lap to put my laptop on.”

And he needs his laptop, as he spends his time in the chair “answering correspondence”. To whom he is actually corresponding, we may never know. But suspiciously, new articles for The Lindeman Daily post during his each of his appointments.

In fact, some might say The Lindeman Daily returned to life in one of those chairs. The publication had not seen a new article in several years before he started getting pedicures. Since then, there have been over a dozen new articles, a rehashed and relaunched website, and tons of merch.

“The merch is to pay for the pedis,” explains Lindeman, trying not to kick and giggle while they scrub his feet with the rough side of a sponge.

While off-put at first, the staff of the salon are now delighted whenever he walks in the door for the usual — a hot stone pedicure with lavender. Or mint if he was feeling particularly spicy.

Now, Lindeman is something of a fixture at the salon. But does he worry that he’s leaning too much into a traditionally feminine activity?

Beer in hand while someone rubs his feet with lavender and jasmine, Lindeman lets out another deep, relaxed sigh.

“There’s really nothing manlier than self care.”