Reviewed and Recommended (with reservations) Ped Egg
I must admit, I am a sucker for infomercials. There have been times when I've become so engrossed in a product's mind-blowing demonstrations and reverent testimonials that I suddenly snap out of it and realize I've just watched a 30-minute ad. A few of my infomercial-triggered acquisitions have included the Sobakowa Pillow, the ShamWow (a Christmas gag gift), the Snuggie (another gag gift) and, most recently, the Ab Coaster. And so, after hearing about the amazing powers of the Ped Egg foot file ad infinitum, I just had to get my own. Saving on shipping costs, I waited until the Ped Egg was no longer exclusive to phone orders and plunked down $9.99 for my own device at the local Rite-Aid.
So is this pedicure stand-in all it's cracked up to be? Well I knew that I'd be the perfect guinea pig for such a test since my feet are one of the only parts of my body (in addition to hair) that require incessant upkeep. Every time I wear a different pair of shoes, callouses seem to form instantly, and within days of sloughing them off, the patches of hardened skin return in full force. Unlike pumice stones that can penetrate too deep and cause bleeding, or feeble scrubs that barely leave an impact, the Ped Egg is purported to get the job done with perfect precision. No matter how hard you grate your skin, cutting yourself will be a feat. "As seen on TV," its micro-precision blades won't even pop a balloon.
I was indeed amazed at the effortless ease with which the Ped Egg shaved off little flakes of skin. The egg-shaped grip and protective design allowed for quick filing without needing much pressure and opening up the container to find the spoils of my sloughing never ceased to satisfy. My heels were the easiest areas to slough, since the large surface of the Ped Egg can't really glide over small areas like toes and unsightly knobs. Because my heels bore the brunt of my Ped-Egging, a few times I managed to rub my skin raw. Even though the treated area appeared as pink and soft as a baby's bottom, it felt sensitive and sore when enclosed in shoes the next day. Thus, in spite of its seemingly benign design, the Ped Egg is essentially a cheap cheese grater you rub on your skin, and it's far too easy to produce too much cheese.
And now that we're on the subject of the gadget's cheapness, (which is only to be expected for something that costs less than $10), allow me to air a few pet peeves. In the four months since purchasing my Ped Egg, I have gone through the original blade and a pack of three replacement blades, each lasting about 5-10 uses. As with any shaving razor, the Ped Egg's blades get dull and lose traction over time. And the replacement blades seem especially shoddy. One generated little to no skin shavings, while another didn't lock in properly to the base and twice spewed an egg-load of foot shavings all over my floor. Even when you aren't dealing with a defective blade, skin shavings have a tendency to sneak through the egg's miniscule holes if you don't hold the contraption just-so with the blade facing up. Lastly, the adhesive emory boards that come with the Ped Egg, meant to be stuck to the flat-sided top, are effectively worthless. You might as well use your nail file. Though it's far from perfect, the Ped Egg does get the job done if your skin is entirely dry (and clean) and you luck out with a well-functioning blade.