We all have our shallow things that we miss during this time of social distancing and trying not get sick and die. The beauty industry, I bet, is suffering pretty hard due to the necessity of getting up close and personal with strangers. Then again, I heard around the 2008 recession that beauty is “recession-proof,” and that most people will be pretty determined to scrape together what they can to at least feel good about their outsides, even if we’re slowly withering away on the inside.

My personal shallow wants are centered there, wanting to give my right foot – or rather, its calluses – for a good pedicure. I hate feet, hate them, and the only way around this visceral reaction to my own is to make sure they’re decent at all times. And let’s face it, despite the fact that I shudder at the thought of touching anyone else’s, a foot massage would release an amount of endorphins that would keep me riding high mentally through this weird hellscape we currently live in. Alas, I cannot change the fact that my big toe looks like a caveman’s club, but I can at least put a jaunty color on it and rid it of its scrappiness to make me feel less like I’m a woman of the woods.

Because I am at all times an incredibly vain person, I am in possession of all that I need for a pretty good at-home pedicure, but never bothered to attempt it because 1.) it puts me up close and personal with my feet, leaving me facing that which I detest the most for a long period of time, and 2.) Again, it’s a long period of time – it takes a long time. But at the start of August I became fed up enough something simply had to be done, so I invite you along to watch me make a fool of myself as I attempt to maneuver around my bathroom without that thing the universe gave us that makes the whole process easier.

First, just to get it over with, the Before:

Ugh. I have major calluses on even the best days, and I have witnessed pedicurists sweat and strain as they use that weird cheese grater thing to smooth them away, not knowing that they shall, ultimately, be bested. I highly doubted I’d get even close to the results I’m used to from going to a professional, but there was no turning back.

I was determined to make it at least somewhat relaxing and fun, and because I needed to start with a foot soak anyway to use the callus remover, I found a bath bomb to fill the room with some nice scents. I used this one from Aruba Aloe that was gifted to me by parents, who got to tour their facility and everything – like, okay fancies.

It had a nice, light scent and I think I soaked ’em while reading a magazine (I told you I was trying to recreate a salon experience) for about 10 minutes.

 

Now, believe it or not, I don’t – nor do I suspect you do – have a cool salon massage chair in which to perch, but perch I still did, on the edge of my tub. My butt did hurt after a bit, but little did I know the awkwardness was only just beginning.

After sitting for a bit I applied the center of this experience, that which holds it all together, this callus remover that’s apparently salon quality – I know I’ve seen people use it on me before, but sometimes I suspect they have it in a prettier bottle that doesn’t hint that your feet are about to get their asses handed to them.

They tell you that you have to wear gloves when applying, and I’ve heard from friends that have used it that this is not a warning to take lightly, so naturally I invested in a pair of extremely good pedicure gloves.

 

Which is good in a sense as it doesn’t seem like it’d stain anything, but the texture makes it hard to determine exactly what one is supposed to do with one’s feet when it has this stuff on it. It doesn’t really dry or become more stable the longer it sits, and naturally I didn’t consider what the fuck I was going to do with my feet while I waited out the suggested time on the bottle until after I had applied it soooo. A suggestion: Drain the tub before applying so you at least have that as a possible surface. If you’re determined to be true to my nonsense in your own process, then you can do what I did which is, first, reach your arms back behind you onto the bathroom floor, keeping your now callus-remover-covered feet in the air, much like a beetle having fallen onto its back (seriously don’t do that though, just plan better).

Then, adjust the bathmat so it’s under your head and guess what, there you are! You’re gonna lay on the floor with your feet in the air over the tub for like 5 – 10 minutes, isn’t that fun? What will you think about while you’re down there? Maybe you’ll be inspired! Maybe you’ll realize your significant other is cheating on you OR that you shall waste no more time, you must marry and live in a house by the sea!

 

That little machine also beeps when you should move to another area, which is convenient, but I also know that I could do full five minute cycles on each of my feet and guess what, it might not make a dent. However, judging by what I saw when I peeked (I honestly try not to look), I was getting a decent amount of callus ready to go down the drain.

Gross pic coming, don’t look if you’re me and questioning your entire life at this moment:

Ewwwwwww.

Finally, I put on my absolute favorite foot lotion, Burt’s Bees Peppermint Foot Lotion. I’m obsessed with this stuff; I’m on my feet all day, and it truly works in getting away all your aches and pains. I put it up onto my ankles too. Don’t even bother with foot lotion without peppermint – it puts a real zing in your step no matter how crappy your feet feel beforehand.

To help me recover from staring at my gross feet for what turned out to only be about a half hour-ish (tub gymnastics and wait times included), I made sure to use my jaunty little socks that are soft as can be and keep things from sticking to my freshly-lotioned feet.

 

Personally, I think they look way better. They felt better, I can tell you that. Refreshed. Refined. Now, it wasn’t a perfect job, and if you’re into staring at feet (please, please don’t put me on that website) you can see that. But I was a bit surprised that felt better in my brain, too – almost like how our body feels affects our state of mind? Ha! Must be nonsense! But for a half hour, it was a nice little escape – especially that staring into the ceiling time.

If you like my nonsense, more of it is available on Instagram, Twitter, and Facebook. Email me at whatthehellisonmyface at gmail dot com.