This post is disgusting.*

*I’m not kidding. (I’ll add the photos at the end of this post just in case you clicked through accidentally and didn’t really want to see reams of papery skin flaking off my feet.)

Emily Tries Internet Foot Peel Booties

First of all, I’d like to apologize for skipping a few blog posts. Okay, a couple month’s worth. Full Slab Dead arrived, Dead Man on Campus came out in audiobook, and I’m about 40,000 words into a totally new romantic comedy.

All that aside, let’s get down to business…

Why am I doing this?

I may not have mentioned it before, but I occasionally have insomnia. With sleeplessness comes the intermittent and regretful Internet impulse purchase. One month it was the black charcoal nose mask, which was unimpressive and didn’t warrant a blog post, so onward. Or…downward we go to the feet.

Pictured: the feet of an average 45 year old woman.

I’m pretty tough on my feet. Factor that in with my age and the fact that I like to wear flip-flops, the old hooves weren’t as smooth as they used to be.

But forget all that. The real reason why I did this is so you don’t have to. I know you’re lying awake, scrolling through Facebook, wondering if these stupid booties work. Well, wonder no further…

The product: KUTEMAX Foot Peeling Mask.

Before this middle-of-the-night impulse buy, I’d seen similar products for sale on Facebook. However, since Facebook is also the unmonitored playground of clothing and beauty scammers, I hopped over to Amazon and bought the highest rated/cheapest version I could find. Because when you’re messing with the outer derma of your body, cheap is good, but so is previous customer satisfaction and lack of serious injury.

After confirming no second-degree burns or the like, I clicked Buy Now.

Then I sat back and waited for the little green foot tornados to arrive.

 

First impressions: elf shoes of goo.

For some reason, this kit is a 2-pack. A 2-pack of wrappers?! (Sorry, Tupac fans.) But why two? Was I supposed to invite a friend over to foot-peel with me? WAS THIS A SOCIAL THING?

Even worse, did this imply that the first application may not work and I’d have to do it again?

Foot-peel anxiety shoved aside for the moment, I opened the box to find slime-filled plastic elf shoes.

Scratchy feet, prepare to meet thy doom.

The booties slide on.

I like to think I’m pretty good at reading instructions. Okay, that’s not true. I’m pretty good at writing instructions. I am, in fact, an internationally award-winning technical instruction writer* (which is not very helpful when you’re trying to sell snarky mysteries).

The instructions on this kit were fairly simple:

  1. Make sure your feet are clean.
  2. Put the booties on and seal them with the stickers they provide.
  3. Wait 90 minutes.

Wait…what? An hour and a half? Uh…okay. I guess I can sit still that long.

*Fidgets restlessly after 3 minutes.*

Goo-encased feet. I’m sure there’s a Tumblr for this somewhere.

*The part about the award is true. It’s from the International Society of Technical Communicators for a database software manual I wrote in the 1990s. Not that exciting, but it got me a raise and a bonus, so, yay.

What did the booties feel like?

Cold. And wet. Kind of like having your own personal backyard summer slip-and-slide taped on either foot.

*Fidgets restlessly after 4 minutes.*

After 90 minutes were up, I shuffled over to the sink and did the big reveal. Here is my foot coming out of its plastic cocoon like Keanu Reeves slithering onto the floor out of his stasis chamber in The Matrix.

Wrinkly and pale like a newborn. Just like Keanu.

And oh, it took off my nail polish.

What pedicure? I’m Asian. I can paint my own dang nails.

Now what?

Now what nothing. We wait.

How long do we wait? WEEKS. See that tree over there? We’re watching it grow.

True. Nothing happened for weeks. So long, in fact, that I began to ponder that second pair of booties in the kit.

Then, like a baby chick pecking its way out of the shell, the first peeling started. Yeah, my pedicurist was lazy.

Note: the peeling starts first on the parts of your feet that get the most wear and tear: between the toes (unless you’re a chimp with wide-set opposable toes) and on the balls and heels of your soles.

These are the gross pictures.

These photos represent about a two-week time period. The Great Peel of 2017 didn’t occur all at once. In fact, I’m pretty sure I would have left skin everywhere just from walking around barefoot. But I put on socks. You’re welcome, family.

Note: if you decide to follow in my footsteps, I highly recommend a friend’s advice to do this treatment in the winter. No one will know what’s going on under your socks.

So it begins.

 

This is when my husband had to leave the room. For two weeks.

 

But soft, what light through yonder dead-skin window breaks?

 

At this point, leading into week three, I wondered if it would ever end.

But of course it stopped. Eventually. And yes, it worked. I had baby-smooth skin feet for a few weeks until Aqua Zumba season started and I scuffed the heck out of my feet again.

*eyes the second pair of booties*


Tune in next time to see how many foot fetish fans I get.

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