ME, THAT'S WHO. I judged too soon. My feet are disgusting. Don't ever look at them. Most of my relationships end when my boyfriend touches my feet for the first time. You could grate the hardest of cheeses on the soles of my feet. Yeah, yeah, I know I should go get a pedicure, but there are two hindrances. Number one problem is that I'm very ticklish and once kicked the manicurist in the face when she attempted to wash my feet. Number two is that I would not wish that world of nasty on anyone.
I broke down the other day and got a Ped Egg from Bed, Bath, and Beyond. I was embarrassed buying it, and I asked for a gift receipt to give the appearance that it was not me -- me with silky smooth ladyish feet -- that would be using it.
But my life has changed. It's true what they say: it's so gentle it won't bust a balloon. And I have to admit, there's something oddly liberating about dumping your excess skin into the trash. I have been so happy with my purchase that I am considering becoming the new face -- or should I say foot -- of Ped Egg. If you don't have one, go get one. Best spent Hamilton of my life. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go exfoliate.
|It comes in pink for all you biddies out there.|