I thought I was in relatively decent shape (undoubtedly one of many little untruths with which I soothe myself on a rotating basis). Then I encountered this product and, wow, the shame was immediate, the reaction, severe. My weak, flabby toes gave me a lecture about neglect. I didn't really listen, but they were so loud and convincing that now I’m ignoring the pleas of other body parts, all wondering when they’re going to be treated to anything this individualized and special.
Meanwhile, my toes are sitting on the edge of their La-Z-Boy. They can’t wait to be transformed into the buff, toned digits of a true athlete (finally matching the rest of my physique). At the end of a month, maybe sooner than that, they’ll be bursting their way out of shoes, doing push-ups, encouraging me to take up barefoot rock climbing (I’ll clearly excel at clinging with insect-like tenacity), and applying their own coats of nail polish. It’s something to look forward to, worth every penny, except the shipping and handling.
This gift isn’t just for the ladies, either. Yoga toes help reduce stress, (sorry, can’t be more specific than that) improve circulation, (ditto) and increase footspan (see photo). Who doesn’t want all those benefits in one blue foamy package? They feel so good you might want to buy some big-ass clownish shoes so you never have to take them off. They also look like they might float, don’t they? The ad copy says nothing about keeping them dry. Wouldn’t it be pleasant to have buoyant feet? You could even try a little walkin’ on water, and we’d all like to see that.
