True Story: The Incident At The Mandalay

When I was first born, my Father smiled down and kissed my Mom on her glistening forehead. Together, they ohh'd and aww'd over their new little girl.  Then my dad looked into my Mom's eyes and smile and whispered, "She's perfect. Except for the monkey feet."

Me and my monkey feet.

Yes, that happened. I know this because the story was often repeated to me in a sweet way meant to make a young child giggle. And life involving my feet has never gotten any better. Or worse, really, so at least there is that. Or I should say there was that. Because my size 10 feet hadn't managed to embarrass me, break an ankle or even trip me until recently when I took a jaunt to Vegas. But before we get into The Incident At The Mandalay, let's back up about four and a half weeks, when a Facebook share got under my skin.

I'm posing for some makeup shot but really, I'm just thinking about my feet.

See, I was going to be working with a few brands at CosmoProf, none of which I had met in person. I wanted to make a good impression, obviously. One day, of of these brands posted something on Facebook about hating feet with dry skin, from their personal account. In the back of my mind, something clicked and said, "don't risk the monkey feet. You'll be in sandals, so do that Tony Moly Changing U Magic Foot Peeling Shoes."



And so I did the Changing U Magic Foot Peeling Shoes. Now if you don't already know, Tony Moly Changing U Magic Foot Peeling Shoes is like a Baby Foot, but less expensive. If you don't know what a Baby Foot is, you are missing out and may have cranksy feet. Baby Feet are little booties that cause your foot skin to peel off like a sunburn, but without injury. After a week or two, all of the skin peels off of your feet and they are revealed to be glorious. The hope is that it peels off like a magical bootie, in one satisfying "peel", but I bet that almost never happens. No matter how the peeling goes down, you are supposed to be left with beautified footskin.

So one week goes by and my feet don't look any different. That's ok, because the packet said it could take 14 days, I think. I am honestly fuzzy on that, but I think I'm right. So I wait.

Then week two breezes by. Nothing. I'm honestly expecting foot snow any day now. If feet peel anything like faces, once there is a crack in the skin, the whole thing starts to fall apart. Any moment, the skin should come wafting off of my feet with each step. Which doesn't sound as appealing as I thought it would when you say it out loud.

Then on week three, a few flakes fell off of my feet and I was honestly underwhelmed. I gave up. I use my Amope' and call it a day. Before I left for Vegas, I got a pedicure and convinced myself that my toes are in no way meme-worthy.

Hanging with Love for Lacquer and Polarbelle at CosmoProf, without any knowledge of what was coming.

I make it to Vegas, where it's hot. And it doesn't matter that it's a dry heat. Sticking your head into an oven sucks any way you try to spin it, so stop telling me about dry heat, thanks. I meet up with my colleagues and they are all wonderful. I'm fairly certain that no one notices I even have feet.

The next day, it's my job to run around the hotel convention center and have meetings with a variety of different people about a variety of possibilities. I was told there would be a lot of walking and carrying heavy things, so I tried to be smart about it. Stay hydrated. Stay oriented, so you don't get lost--again. Don't forget to eat. Make it to day three and you can wear sneakers. No one cares about your shoes on the last day.

The stylists at the North American Hairstyling Awards were definitely not thinking about my feet.

I sail through day one and its 13k steps with no issues. I'm feeling like Rocky at the top of the museum steps. I even do Pilates that night back in my hotel room.

My feet, before the betrayal.

I hit the floor on day two, ready to rock. I'm wearing comfy, open sandals and I've got my game face on. After what must have been my eleventh or twelfth meeting of the morning, one of the booths at the convention caught my attention, because a nice looking gentleman was waving hello. I stepped over to chat, for once, not nervous of introducing myself to a stranger.

"I had noticed you walking by before", said the gentleman manning the booth. "I'm glad you stopped by. I work with a company called FootyFootFoot* and we think you have a problem. Do you have a moment to step over here and talk? I'm not a doctor, but I think I can help you."

"Um, sure. I'm think I'm all good, but I would love to talk to you about the NozzleFoxer**" "Yes, and we can do that," he interrupted, "But I think you need to look at your feet."

I looked down. Holy shit. My feet must have finally cracked from that fracking Tony Moly Change A Foot thing from more than a month ago. Like, they cracked. My footskin was literally unfurling in the breeze where it was not held captive by the straps of my sandals. It was blowing all over the floor at FootyFootFoot, in front of everyone.

Instantly ashamed, I muttered,  "I did this Korean foot thing where it peels off your skin, but I didn't think it worked. This should have happened two weeks ago." "No, that isn't from a peel. I can promise you that you've got a very strong fungal problem. If you can come back at the end of the day, I'll give you one of my samples. It will clear it right up, but you should see a doctor very soon. That is very bad." He handed me a napkin, for what reason, I wasn't sure. Yea, I was upset and mortified. But I wasn't about to cry. Sheesh. He looked at me and paused.

"Um, For your feet. There is a lot, um, on the floor."

Oh.

After cleaning up my remains, I practically jogged to the bathroom to get a better look at what had happened. After securing one of the larger bathrooms (sorry!), I began to take a closer look. Yup, my footskin was now pulling away from my feet in thin, uneven ribbons. This would be a dream for those people who love to pick at sunburns. But seriously? I'm at a professional conference and my feet are unfurling their excess and leaving momentos everywhere.  I remember an esthetician who once told me to avoid lotions after a peel, because they will tack the loose skin to the face, long after it should be gone. Luckily, I had just gotten a lotion sample from an organic brand, and I slathered my feet, hoping to weigh down the fly-aways. I walked back on to the showroom floor, ever hopeful my feet would hold it together until the end of the day.

The showroom floor was packed with people I hope weren't staring at my foot ribbons,.

Luckily for me, the lotion worked until about six o'clock that night, when I made it back to the hotel room to change for dinner. I scrubbed my feet, re-lotioned and went to dinner, without any additional issues to report. After dinner, I spent the better part of three hours peeling my feet, which is what every girl dreams of when visiting Vegas for the first time.

Needless to say, it wasn't as satisfying as I had hoped.

I don't think the sisters behind Manic Panic were worried about my feet. But you never know. They definitely look concerned about something.

The moral of the story? Don't cheap out and buy Tony Moly Changing You Magic Foot Peeling Shoes. Or maybe just don't peel your feet during warm months because you never know when they'll crack. Or maybe you just stick with a foot file or something like the Solemate.

Either way, you never want your footskin unfurling inappropriately when you least expect it.



* real name changed
** not name of anyone intentionally






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