A MIDSUMMER’S confession: when it comes to skin, I discriminate. I wish I treated my feet with the same tender loving care as I do my face. But I don’t. Not even close.
My face gets exfoliation, a layer of sunscreen, twice-a-day moisturizing — not to mention troubleshooting to head off blemishes. The best my feet get is a bare-bones D.I.Y. pedicure and a quarterly once-over with lotion.
At the beach, or in barely-there sandals, my neglect rears its ugly head: rings of parched skin on my heels and calluses so bulky that I fear I look as déclassé as a hostess with a sink of crusty dishes.
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