I finally bit the bullet and bought Baby Foot (actually, a Baby Foot knock-off), and I can’t freakin’ WAIT to use it.

Here’s a link to the original Baby Foot. (Sidenote: now that I’m looking at the original product, I’m wondering why the fuck I bought an off-brand version of virtually the same product, but here we are. Yet another Caroline impulse buy without adequate research behind it. Hopefully this mistake won’t mean the difference between having a baby’s foot and a permanently burnt/mutilated adult foot. We’ll find out when my delivery arrives sometime between April 24th and April 27th.)

For those of you who don’t know what Baby Foot is, it’s basically a pair of little disposable booties full of some kind of crazy chemical. You wear the booties for the recommended number of minutes and let the stuff soak into your calloused, hoof-like feet, and then you remove the booties and wash the liquid off your feet.

At this point, the waiting game begins. This is the part I’m most looking forward to.

Apparently, a few days after wearing the booties – and you won’t know exactly when, which is truly the fun part – your feet will begin to shed skin, so much skin it’ll be like your feet are made of two Size 8 snakes. Whole sheets of dead skin will begin sloughing off your feet without you doing anything else to them at all, like your feet are undergoing a metamorphosis from the feet of Mr. Tumnas to the feet of Cindy Crawford (if, in my case, Cindy Crawford had a hammer toe).

This sudden and prolific Baby Foot skin shedding situation has caused many embarrassing moments for its users, according to the product reviews on Amazon. People’s feet have started coming apart like zombie feet during yoga classes, while wearing flip flops, and other times where their feet have been in full view of other (horrified) people, who clearly didn’t know about Baby Foot, causing the user great shame.

Luckily, I will still be on COVID-19 P.A.U.S.E. lockdown here in my NYC apartment for weeks after I use it, so no one except my husband and my dog will see my gross feet during the process. The only time I won’t be home will be when I’m walking my dog, in which case I’ll wear a boot, and no one will be any the wiser about what’s goin’ on underneath the Ugg.

After the shedding ends – which, again, takes a few days, and happens in such a dramatic fashion that people say you should wear socks to bed (I genuinely feel like I’m waiting for Christmas morning about this thing) – your feet are supposed to end up completely smooth and soft, as callous-free as they were on the day you were born. I’m so, SO curious to see if it works, and I really hope it does, because this whole experience sounds positively *thrilling.*

I do have a slight concern that I’ll have an allergic reaction to the booties and have to video call a telemedicine doctor service for medical assistance after wearing them, but we’ll cross that bridge if we get to it. It would be pretty humiliating to have to explain to the doctor that I had monster feet because I voluntarily used an off-brand version of a product called Baby Foot to melt the dead skin off of my feet (very Darwinian), so let’s just hope that doesn’t happen.

Stay tuned for a Part 2 to this post, which I’ll write after I’ve used the product and completed the shedding process. Even if it goes horribly wrong, it’ll probably be a good story…and I can’t wait to tell you all about it!