It’s the new year, and I’m shedding my old skin.
Literally, not figuratively.
If you were expecting a metaphor, you’ve come to the wrong place.
Here, we’re talking feet.
To be specific, my aged, desiccated, cracked, and calloused feet.
By the way, if you’re eating, you should stop reading.
If you’re not, welcome to my world.
In any event, I’ve written before about the fact that my feet in winter are not for the fainthearted. The Sahara has more moisture. Cracks develop on my soles like an irrigation system without the water.
You get the idea.
My feet are wooden clogs without the clogs.
And with the new year, I was looking to change that.
I know, many of you are making resolutions about ways to improve yourselves. And you’re thinking loftier than foot level.
I’m not resolving to lose weight, exercise more, save money, or be a better person. I tried those resolutions and they’re no fun.
Plus, if you’ve read me before, you know I specialize in the Unresolution, which means that in the new year, I try to think of something I did in the previous year that I really like and intend to keep doing.
I think that’s a more positive way to live, don’t you?
For example, I think about Bradley Cooper a lot, and I intend to keep thinking about him a lot. My friends gave me an autographed picture of him and even a votive candle with his face, so I set up a shrine to him in my office.
I got religion.
And what do I want to change about that? Absolutely nothing.
As a matter of fact, why not join me? Let’s all think about Bradley Cooper for a few moments during the day. It will do us a world of good.
Tell people you’re meditating, but really you’re fantasizing.
To return to point, the great thing about getting older is that you see the years come and go, and you come to self-acceptance. Which means that for New Year’s, you don’t resolve to change anything because it won’t work, doesn’t matter, and really, at this point, you’re already awesome.
Or at least, you’re not that bad.
Five extra pounds isn’t the worst thing in the world. That treadmill will be fine without you.
And money is to be enjoyed.
Which brings me to my feet.
Because I had one thing that was bugging me, and it was them. I had lived with them feeling vaguely Jurassic, even though I noticed everybody in my yoga class has beautiful, smooth feet and even pedicures.
I’m not a pedicure person, not only because I don’t have time, but also because pedicurists don’t have sandblasters.
But last yoga class, I spotted a pile of white stuff at the bottom of my mat.
I didn’t know what it was, but it looked like it had snowed where my feet had been.
That was my clue.
I’m a mystery writer, remember?
It wasn’t snow at all.
It was a flaky mound of dead skin from my feet. I brushed the flakes away before anybody saw, but my feet kept snowing the entire class.
To be honest, I shouldn’t have been surprised.
I hadn’t been keeping up with my feet-picking, which is my hobby.
Please tell me I’m not the only person who does this.
Maybe you know somebody like me, who has the completely adorable habit of picking their feet while they watch television or have a conversation.
Or maybe you are that person and know the joys of picking your feet.
And the fun of having your daughter come home for the Christmas holiday and tell you, “Mom, please stop.”
To which I always reply, “Stop what?”
But I’m lying.
I stop until she goes out of the room, then I start again.
I love it.
In fact, picking my feet might be my new Unresolution.
I had fallen behind because she was home.
But my private snowstorm in yoga shamed me into doing something about my gross feet, so I brought a kit called Baby Feet and I just used it, on New Year’s Day.
My house is a party, no?
The kit has two plastic booties full of lavender-scented goop, which you put on your bare feet for an hour while you sit still. The goop tingles, but it’s supposed to cause your dead skin to slough off in the weeks to come, which sounds disgusting but might be good news for my Downward Dog.
And the directions say that you can look forward to three weeks of picking your feet to help remove the dead skin.
Bonus! I can pick to my heart’s content. And at the end, I’ll have beautiful feet.
Ready for Bradley.
Happy New Year!
Look for Lisa and Francesca’s new humor collection, “I Need a Lifeguard Everywhere But the Pool,” and Lisa’s new Rosato & DiNunzio novel, “Exposed,” in stores now. Also look for Lisa’s new domestic thriller, “After Anna” coming April 10, 2018. firstname.lastname@example.org.