Goodness, do I ever have ugly feet.
I know they don’t look all that ugly in this photo; that’s because I surrounded them with my cute new floors to distract you (and also because I used FaceTune to spruce ’em up a bit before posting this shot, ssh; no but seriously, nobody needs to see those things in their un-retouched state).
I’m belaboring this point because we’re not really talking run-of-the-mill ugly feet (as most feet are); we’re talking a disaster. Partially because I can’t remember the last time a pedicure was on the menu, but mostly because my crazy-dry skin (you know, the that I’ve whined about here over and over and over) makes itself extra-special apparent on my feet, resulting in actual, Grand Canyon-style cracks (it’s as attractive and comfortable as it sounds). I’m willing to ignore a lot of things, but for-real holes in my feet? Nothankyou.
Which brings me to the point of this post, which is this ridiculous thing. My in-laws got it for me for Christmas because of the aforementioned whining, and HOLY was I ever excited. I’m not being sarcastic in the least; it may be one of my favorite presents ever. Because you know what it does to my feet?
FIXES THEM. (Or at least it starts the process along, and then a heaping dose of this – which you MUST own if you have dry skin – wraps it up and returns my feet to a state of being…well, if not something you’d want to snuggle up with, exactly, certainly less horrifying overall.)
Also, it’s weirdly satisfying and allows you to indulge any obsessive grooming tendencies that you might have in a less potential-for-tragedy way than, say, excessive eyebrow plucking.
