My journey started a few weeks back when I thought it might be fun to get a facial (in hindsight, “fun” is not a word I would have used to describe that experience, but that’s a different story). On my way out as I was collecting what was left of my dignity, I noticed a sign for a new product called “BabyFoot.” It peaked my interest because babies are super fucking soft and how great would that be to have baby-like feet???

I did some research online and eventually decided that I was ready to take the plunge and drop $25 on for my very own BabyFoot exfoliant package.

I’m not going to lie; those two whole days waiting for my AmazonPrime package to arrive was absolutely brutal. The excitement was eating me up and I ripped through my mailbox like a child on Christmas morning on the Thursday that it finally came.

Day One:

I receive my BabyFoot exfoliant and carefully read the instructions. They’re simple enough to follow. I wash my feet, put the booties on for an hour and then rinse them. I also try walking while wearing said gel-filled booties even though the directions explicitly said not too, but rules don’t always apply to me. I don’t have any specific reasoning as to why I walk in them, other than the fact that they told me I probably shouldn’t. I’d compare it to try to walk on concrete with ice skates on, or so I would imagine it would be like had I ever actually tried to walk on concrete with ice skates on.

Day Two:

I wake up feeling disappointed. My feet look exactly the same, and I have no patience. Ugh, I wasted $25, I complain to my faithful work sidekick, Jackie. She assures me that it takes a few days. She’s so wise.

Day Three:

My feet are finally beginning to peel. Not much, but enough up along the ball under my toes to be noticeable. I go to a pool party at a friend’s if you can call getting drunk in a kiddie pool a “pool party.” I tell them about my BabyFoot expose, and they catch sight of the bottoms of my feet, screaming in fear as if they just watched me drown a kitten in that very kiddie pool. Interesting that some dead skin terrifies a group of guys more than some of the shit I’ve seen these guys do (but that ain’t any of my business).

Day Four:

I don’t notice much change, but I’m also too hungover to be bothered to look at my feet. You deserve the truth.

Day Five:

Now we’re talking. My feet are begging to be peeled. The instructions specifically say not to forcibly peel the skin yourself, but to let it come off on its own, naturally. But what are rules for if not meant to be broken? I’ve started packing tweezers in my purse for good measure. I understand now why people end up on shows like My Crazy Addiction #Can’tStopWon’tStop

Day Six:

I.Am.A.Snake. Hissssss. My feet look like they belong in the depths of the Amazon rainforest. I’ve spent much of my day peeling the skin off my feet in chunks and it’s honestly the most satisfying thing I’ll ever do. I wish you could’ve seen the massive sheet I pulled off the bottom today. I’ve made the courageous decision not to include visuals as I don’t want this to be flagged for graphic content.

Day Seven:

I AM YOUTHFUL AND PURE. The new skin on the bottoms of my feet are sooooo soft. Like so soft that I almost ate shit multiple times in the shower. #WorthIt

There’s still a lot of skin peeling off but in unsatisfactory small pieces. I am being reborn.

Day Eight:

Okay, seriously… when does this stop peeling? Today? No? Next week? Okay. The instructions say they could peel up to two weeks.

I have to say, BabyFoot worked far better than I could have expected, and it’s certainly produced way better results than any pedicure I’d pay twice as much for. Would I do it again? In a heartbeat. Though next time I think I would do it in the winter or the early spring when my feet have a chance to recover and I’m not tempted to pick at them constantly. Two thumbs up. Five stars. High fives all around.

Purchase yours here at

Feature image via BabyFoot

Originally published on Unwritten