By Melissa Dahl
Health editor

What it is: Dry shampoo (sometimes called hair powder). There are many different brands out there; we tried Bumble and Bumble's Hair Powder in brown ($41 for a 4.4 oz. aerosol can).

What it claims to do: Cleanse your hair without water. The powder is supposed to absorb the oils in your hair, letting you go longer between washings.

My experience: I haven't washed my hair in three days. I may not wash it tomorrow. Either way, with the dry shampoo, you'd never know the difference.

Carissa Ray / msnbc.com photo illustration

Dry shampoo and its dirty, dirty influence on my life these last six weeks have been a little bit magical, a little bit disgusting. I have crazy, wavy hair that can take up to 40 minutes to blow-dry into submission after washing it. It's a long, sweaty, boring process, and I hate every time-wasting minute of it. All that work, and it only lasts about a day, maybe two, before I have to wash it and blow-dry it all over again.  All I wanted from this stuff was to recover some of the time that my own vanity has stolen from my life over the years.

Most hair product brands have a version of dry shampoo, but I tried Bumble and Bumble's because it seemed the most foolproof: It's an aerosol spray that comes in five different colors (brown, black, blond, red and white) to match your hair. (Most dry shampoos are white, loose powders that you shake onto your scalp; I knew that if I tried this, it would just look like I had a bad case of dandruff.)

I washed and blow-dried my hair on a Monday morning, and tried the hair powder for the first time the next day. Trying to follow instructions, I lifted a small section of my hair and aimed the dark brown spray at the roots, keeping the can several inches away. Then I kept the chunk of hair suspended in air for a few seconds to let it dry. After letting it fall back down, I used my fingers to shake out the excess powder flakes and brushed the rest through.
Here, I took a moment to admire my handiwork. It looked good – my hair had so much texture and body that I hardly recognized it as my own.

And then I noticed my hands. From fingertips to palms, they were stained dark brown. It sort of looked like my misguided attempts in high school to apply a too-dark shade of self-tanner. After taking a closer look in the mirror, I saw brown splotches all around my hairline and – inexplicably – up and down my neck. On the drive to work, I kept running my hands through my hair, obsessed with its unfamiliar, stiff feel. I must have scratched my face a couple of times on the drive, too, because a glance in the mirror before stepping out of the car revealed a big brown streak on my forehead and nose. Cute.

Carissa Ray / msnbc.com photo illustration

msnbc.com Melissa Dahl dry shampoo

At work, I drained half a bottle of Purell that had sat unused on my desk for months in a desperate attempt to keep my hands clean. But brown splotches covered everything I touched: my mouse, my desk calendar, my to-do lists and my AP stylebook. Mostly, it was embarrassing – my hands just looked really, really dirty.

The next morning, I woke to find that the gunk in my hair had stained my pillowcases. After a shower (yes, I'm still showering – I'm not that gross), I discovered that I had probably sprayed too much of the stuff into my hair the day before, because so much remained that all I had to do was brush it through and run a flat iron over it. I lasted through Friday using the hair powder, but at the end of the day, I was desperate to get this stuff out of my hair. My hair might have looked neat and clean, but it felt strange to the touch – stiff and product-heavy. I rinsed (and repeated) with a clarifying shampoo, watching half-amused, half-horrified as the water turned brown when it fell from my hair. 

After that first week, I learned to spray less of the product at one time, and that it gives you about three or four days between washings. I was dying to get someone with hairstyling smarts on the phone. What is this mysterious powder?

What the expert says: It seems I may have been expecting too much from this dry shampoo stuff, says Margery Huff, a spokeswoman for the Seattle-area chain Gene Juarez Salons and Spas, who often works with dry shampoos and hair powders.

"They absorb the oil in the hair. It acts like a sponge for that oil; the powder flakes absorb the oil and you either brush them out or shake them out," Huff says. "They don't actually clean."

Now they tell me. She continues, "They remove excess oil but they're not going to move any debris from pollution, or anything that's been floating around in the air, or any excess products," Huff says.

People with scalp conditions like eczema or psoriasis that require a strict washing schedule should avoid products like dry shampoo, she says. "It's perfect for somebody like you that has naturally curly hair tends to be dry anyway," Huff says.

And, as I found out the hard way, she advises that a little bit of this gunk goes a long way. And it doesn't hurt to ask for help from your hairstylist.

"Hair powder is one of those things that takes some finessing and working with the stylist in the salon to show you exactly how to (use) it," Huff says. "The stylist definitely can lend their expertise so you don't end up having a black streak across your forehead."

Bottom line: There's a pretty steep learning curve for this stuff, but once you've got it down, it works.  It's like laziness in a can! When I learned how to apply this stuff correctly (less is more, people), I found it was a lot less messy, and it's saved me a ton of time in the morning.

By Anna Chan, health editor

What it is: Smooth Away ($14.99 plus $6.99 shipping/handling from www.getsmoothaway.com)

What it claims to do: Buff away unwanted hair and leave skin "so soft and incredibly smooth." According to the Web site, the Smooth Away pads are covered with superfine crystals that easily, safely, painlessly and quickly remove unwanted hair and exfoliate dead skin cells.

IdeaVillage Products Corp.

My experience: I hate to admit it, but I've been a girl of the more hirsute sort since I can remember, and my excess hair caused me great embarrassment as a child. I tried many hair removal products in my teen years, hoping to find something cheap that would remove hair painlessly. The products I tried usually caused me considerable amounts of pain (from waxing) or pain and very irritated skin (from smelly depilatories).

So when Smooth Away arrived at my office, I was eager to try this new miracle hair remover, which the Web site claims is the "fastest selling, most popular women's product in Europe." As I grabbed the gray pads that would supposedly remove hair, I noticed the very prominent 3M logo plastered all over the back. But what was even more interesting was that the pads felt a lot like smooth sandpaper.

At this point, one might put the product aside and reconsider rubbing sandpaper-like pads all over delicate skin (especially while at work), but as a desperate hairy person, I didn't care. I removed the protective backing, stuck a large gray pad to the big pink applicator, made sure my skin was clean and rubbed the pad on the back of my left wrist as instructed, gently buffing in circular motions – first clockwise, then counterclockwise -- with slight pressure.

The result after the first six circular buffs? A little bit of hair was certainly gone, but not much. Still hopeful, I repeated the motions as instructed, but by the time much of the hair on my wrist was gone, my skin was feeling a bit tingly, and I saw that the hair was certainly not well removed. Some small spots were smooth, while in other areas, the hair was barely there, but still visible if a bit shorter.

A few minutes later, it felt like I had major razor burn and my skin was quite red. As instructed, I applied moisturizer, but that didn't help. (I missed the tip in the instructions about treating irritated skin with a milk-soaked cotton ball for a few minutes.)

After that, I lost interest in Smooth Away for a few days. When I picked it up again a few nights later, I decided to test it on my stubbly left leg. (Hey, it's winter!) The experience was similar to the wrist, with a few differences. First, it took me at least a half an hour to remove what seemed like enough hair for me to be somewhat satisfied. Second, my skin was so covered in fine white "dust" (Smooth Away tells me this is exfoliated dead skin cells) by the time I was done that I couldn't even see how much hair had been removed. Third, my skin wasn't irritated at all this time, despite the lengthy removal process.

After a quick shower (and a shave of my right leg for comparison), I saw that not very much hair had been removed from my left leg at all. In fact, there were areas that appeared as if no hair had been removed, and my skin didn't feel smoother from the supposed exfoliation. Meanwhile, my right leg was silky smooth and hair-free after a mere minute of shaving.

The next day, my left leg had even more stubble, while my right was still fairly smooth. Clearly, my razor won that contest.

Still curious about the pads, I went to my local home improvement store with one of them in hand. After touching countless sheets of sandpaper, I happened upon a 600 grit ultrafine sheet that felt incredibly similar to the Smooth Away. A quick test with the sandpaper (after purchasing, of course) removed more hair on my other wrist with just a few strokes than the Smooth Away did, and without any irritation. Winner this time? Sandpaper!

What the expert says:  "It is a good idea for a product, but should be viewed with caution," said Dr. Fiona Blanco, a clinical instructor of dermatology at Columbia University's Department of Dermatology who has not tried Smooth Away.  She's not sure whether the goal of Smooth Away is to twist the hair off at skin level or whether it aims to remove it at the root, but explained that the instructed circular motions could be for snagging hairs and pulling them out by the roots.

As for the crystals the Web site mentions, Blanco said that her concern was skin irritation. "Crystals would probably exfoliate the skin, but I don't know what the crystals are composed of so they might cause contact sensitivity," she said.  The dermatologist also noted that crystals are used in dermatology for microdermabrasion, which could explain the product's exfoliation claim.

When I mentioned my sandpaper experiment, Blanco warned that if Smooth Away is in fact sandpaper, and we don't know whether it is, using the product could exacerbate preexisting skin conditions such as eczema and psoriasis, increase risk for infection and worsen dry skin. "If the pads are very abrasive, then they could very easily cause traumatic irritation, erosions and burns to the skin," she explained.

But even those without any skin issues should be careful, especially in the winter, Blanco said. "People tend to have dry skin in the winter secondary to decreased humidity and it may be tempting to exfoliate these dead skin cells, but this may only aggravate the condition by increasing cell turnover and irritation resulting in eczema."

Bottom line: After experimenting with Smooth Away and sandpaper, I'm sticking to my razors, which Blanco said could probably scrape off dead skin with a close shave anyway. 

But if you really want to rid yourself of excess hair, Blanco recommends laser removal, which aims to destroy the hair follicle to prevent regrowth. "That's the best way to remove hair," she said. "Then just moisturize and you won't have to worry about doing anything on a weekly or biweekly basis."

By Jasmin Aline Persch, contributing writer

What it is: PearlyDreams Sleep Enhancing Toothpaste; $19.95, plus shipping;  www.pearlydreams.net

What it claims to do: Help you sleep and maintain your teeth. PearlyDreams toothpaste, created and patented by a New York dentist, purportedly works by absorbing through the "thousands of tiny blood vessels in your mouth." The toothpaste has the natural supplements melatonin, valerian, balm mint and passionflower "known to relax, calm, and help the body drift off to sleep," according to the manufacturer.

My experience: Few things are more frustrating than a night wrestling with wakefulness.

My sleepless saga began after I moved from Seattle to Santa Monica, Calif., to live with my boyfriend. The excitement of this huge step combined with the heat trapped in our 12th floor apartment and the light from the Santa Monica Pier penetrating the blinds at night turned me into an insomniac.

As misery likes company, I was relieved to learn that "almost everybody" has bouts of insomnia – and some of us struggle with more severe chronic insomnia, according to the National Institute of Neurological Disorders and Stroke, part of the National Institutes of Health. At any time, about 40 percent of women and 30 percent of men have trouble sleeping. Anything from stress to jet leg, diet, light, noise, temperature and illness can rob you of sweet sleep.

In Seattle, I used to wrap myself up in a three-layered burrito of bedding to keep out the cold. In Los Angeles, by habit, I tucked our single sheet and comforter in on one side and my boyfriend flanked the other side. This created a kind of human oven, where I would bake to a certain temperature - and then pop up like a hot bun during the night. While my new environment was what initially stirred my sleep, eventually just the fear of facing another restless night fueled my insomnia.

After three weeks of shoddy slumber, I was sick and tired of languishing as a zombie -- and psyched to try PearlyDreams Sleep Enhancing Toothpaste by Dr. Z Technologies. Upon brushing, I discovered that the "refreshing wintergreen flavor" was quite delightful – invoking my old obsession with mint Life Savers. But would this tasty toothpaste finally allow me to achieve solid sleep?

Fortunately, I did not buff my incisors, canines and molars "before or while operating any heavy machinery or driving," because drowsiness sunk in approximately 15 minutes after I stowed my toothbrush.

Hopeful, I climbed into our loft bed – and conked out. But I woke when my boyfriend joined me and was faced with my usual sleeplessness as the hours wore on. The following night began similarly with a swift lights-out, but my lack of shut eye – and my frustration – were more pronounced.

I wonder, though, if the dental sleep aid would have worked better had I followed the manufacturer's recommendation, "if tolerable, swallowing is encouraged." But the idea of ingesting the foam that carried the plaque I had just scraped off my enamel was not tolerable.

I initially tried to follow the rest of the four-part instructions – but when I did not achieve "more restful sleep," I became lazy. Rinse mouth "thoroughly" with water before handling the toothbrush was slashed from 10 seconds to 0 seconds; spread "liberal amount" of PearlyDreams across the toothbrush became just a normal swath; brush tongue, sides of my mouth and gums "for a minimum of 2-3 minutes" was cut back to 20 seconds; but "do not rinse" was adhered to because I still hoped to "achieve maximum effect." Most of us are accustomed to rinsing toothpaste; I, myself, have been doing so for more than two decades. Retaining the foam in my mouth felt less clean than washing it out.

Several days into using the toothpaste, I received my first night of gratifying, uninterrupted sleep. The nightmare, though, wasn't over yet; my insomnia recurred some nights. But my restlessness seemed to subside - and my sleeping patterns finally began to return to normal. To find out whether I had the toothpaste to thank, I decided to consult a sleep expert.

What the expert says: Dr. Vishesh Kapur, an associate professor and the director of the Sleep Disorders Center at the University of Washington, says if you keep PearlyDreams toothpaste in your mouth or dare to swallow it, the "active ingredients" could enter your blood stream.

"I could imagine if you absorb a reasonable amount, you could feel more drowsy," Kapur says. You would have to absorb an amount analogous to ingesting tablets containing 400 mg to 900 mg valerian or 0.5 mg of melatonin to induce sleepiness, he further explains. (That's a lot of toothpaste.)

Of the toothpaste's natural ingredients, melatonin and valerian are the ones most likely to influence sleep.

Melatonin supplements have become somewhat popular with insomniacs and many of Kapur's patients have tried them – although few say they work, he reports. Melatonin is a hormone that's produced naturally in our bodies and it controls our circadian rhythm, or sleep-and-wake cycle. Produced in our brain's pea-sized pineal gland in response to darkness, it makes us sleepy but production stops when it gets lighter. Scientifically, melatonin hasn't proven itself as a good sleeping pill, Kapur says. The doc generally prescribes melatonin to people who wish to re-set their circadian rhythm – usually desiring to get to sleep earlier.

Valerian is a sedative derived from the root of a flowering plant and research is limited on its helpfulness in inducing slumber. But sleep experts generally believe, Kapur says, that valerian doesn't work too well. He also cautions that "natural" isn't synonymous with "safe".

"Bottom line, I wouldn't be recommending this [toothpaste] for my patients," Kapur says.

What the doc does recommend to insomniacs: sticking to a consistent sleep schedule, avoiding naps and possibly taking a prescribed sleeping pill. Sleeplessness can make functioning during the day difficult and cause stress and frustration that can perpetuate a vicious cycle of insomnia. Kapur says research has shown that going to bed later and waking at the same time for a few weeks can also help. By accumulating a "sleep debt," you become especially tired at bedtime, but may also be drowsier during the day. Kapur stresses leaving your bed if you can't sleep – to avoid having bad associations with your bed – and keeping busy until you feel ready for some shut-eye.

"Sleep is best done when not concentrating on it," Kapur says.

Bottom line: PearlyDreams's minty flavor is especially palatable – but the idea of consuming toothpaste (carrying your plaque) is hard to swallow. As promised, the toothpaste's natural supplements can make you drowsy and help get you to sleep. But the dream of most insomniacs is sleeping soundly the whole night through, which PearlyDreams didn't fulfill.

By Melissa Dahl, health editor

What it is: 5-Hour Energy, a teeny, 2-fl. oz. drink priced at about $3.99.

By Diane Mapes, contributing writer

By Melissa Dahl, health editor

What it is: The Etiquette Checker, $54 at www.japantrendshop.com

What it claims to do: Prevent you from being the obnoxious drunk with the horrible breath – just in time for holiday parties. An awesome infomercial from Japan demonstrates how the Etiquette Checker works:  After chowing down on seasonal treats and cocktails, breathe into this little gizmo, and it will rate how bad your breath is and how inebriated you are on a scale of one to six.

japantrendshop.com

My experience: The problem with a gadget you're supposed to use when you're drinking is that you're always drinking when you're supposed to be using it. After receiving the Etiquette Checker, I immediately stashed it in my bag, intending to whip it out and try it among friends on the weekend. But as the conversations got going and, ahem, the drinks got flowing, I could never remember to actually use the thing.

And then the little brother came to town for a visit. Who better than family to help reveal how bad your breath is and how tipsy you are?

Turns out, this little gadget is essentially a super fun party trick. While hanging out at a music festival in Seattle, I ate a bratwurst topped with ketchup, and the Etiquette Checker ranked my breath a four out of six. My brother ate a cheeseburger with the works – including onions – and "blew" a five.. The thing seemed to be working until dinner: We split a pepperoni pizza and it reported my breath was only a three, but his was a five!

As for drinks, we each had three beers, and the Etiquette Checker gave both of us threes, which didn't seem right since I'm smaller than my brother.  Shouldn't I have ranked a little tipsier than he did?

Unfortunately, the questions we had about the Etiquette Checker went unanswered, because the instructions are in Japanese! (It comes with "Englisch" instructions, too, but it's a really poor, confusing translation.)

What the expert says: For answers, I turned to Harold Katz, a dentist and bacteriologist who established the California Breath Clinics in 1993.

Katz says the Etiquette Checker does likely measure the amount of alcohol on your breath. "If somebody drinks alcohol, that little instrument might pick up the alcohol because it has vapors and releases fumes into the air," Katz says.

Still, it's not the most useful Breathalyzer device, because rather than giving you a precise measure of your blood-alcohol content, it only gives you a score from one to six without interpreting what that number means.

But he says simply looking at the Etiquette Checker's $54 price tag is enough to tell him the device can't truly measure bad breath.

"That little device is not sophisticated enough to give an accurate reading whether someone has bad breath or not," Katz says. He says the only reliable device that measures halitosis is called a Halimeter, which costs about $1,800. (Not exactly a recession-friendly stocking stuffer.)

Bad breath is caused by bacteria that lives in the back of your tongue and throat, which is what the Halimeter measures. Katz believes the Etiquette Checker is likely measuring the amount of moisture and heat in your mouth – which, he says, might explain why the gizmo gave my brother and I different results even thought we'd both  eaten a piece of pizza from the same pie.

"If people want to test their breath, they can do it for free," says Katz.

His first tip is best done in private: To check out your breath, lick the back of your hand, let that dry for a few seconds, and then take a whiff. Because the bacteria that causes bad breath lives in your saliva, it's a much more reliable way than simply breathing into your cupped hand.

Or, Katz suggests, you can take some preventive measures to ward off bad breath.

"The number one thing we recommend is drink more water; you need to keep your mouth more moist. Dry mouth leads to bad breath more than anything else," Katz says. He suggests staying away from alcohol and alcohol-based mouthwashes. And make sure to brush your tongue when you brush your teeth -- and floss once a day. To fight bad breath, Katz recommends two toothpastes called Therabreath and Periotherapy.

Bottom line: Although it doesn't quite do what it claims, the Etiquette Checker is a fun little device to use at holiday parties this season.

By JoNel Aleccia, health writer

What it is: Storm Defender, a fabric cape for dogs to wear during thunderstorms ($54.99 and $64.99); www.stormdefender.com

Carissa Ray / msnbc.com

What it claims to do: Keep your dog from becoming anxious and destructive during a big storm. You tie the cape lined with metallic fabric around the dog's body at the first hint of thunder and lightning – or the first sign of worried canine behavior. The makers, Storm Defender LLC of Fairfield, Ohio, claim it disperses the static electricity that builds up before a storm, calming the dog (and the owner) without the use of drugs.

My experience:  I was completely unprepared for the reality of a big dog on a dark and stormy night. I've been a cat person for most of my adult life, and happily so, until my husband and I allowed our teenaged son to talk us into a puppy. The teenager left for college, of course, and the puppy is now a 112-pound pooch with a sweet disposition – and a morbid fear of thunderstorms.

My history with felines never could have prepared me for the panting, the drooling, the whining or the sight of a giant animal standing on all four legs, looming over me as I lay in bed. A cat might slink behind a chair to quietly ride out a storm, but a dog – or this dog – insisted that everyone share her misery whenever the sky clouded over.

So after a particularly sleepless summer thunderstorm,  I decided to try the Storm Defender.  I was skeptical, but  if the makers were right, it would relieve agitation all around: "Relax, you and your dog don't have to suffer anymore!" they said.

You know what? They were right.

 A few weeks after the cape arrived, my husband and I were awakened at 4:15 a.m. by the sound of heavy canine breathing as thunder rumbled in the distance. A flash of lightning sparked a round of whining and shaking, so I fumbled for the Storm Defender, pulling it from the drawer and tying it loosely around Chelsea's neck and torso. The tomato-red cape with its shiny silver lining resembled a Halloween costume I once made for my kids, but I had to admit it did give the Lab-Shepherd mix a rather dashing air.

For the first hour, nothing happened. She paced and panted and tried to climb into the bed between us, all 6-foot-4 of her from nose to tail. I finally went out on the couch, where I fell asleep with one hand on her cape-clad back as she wheezed and trembled on the floor. When I woke two hours later, the storm was still raging, but, amazingly, the dog was not.

She wasn't completely calm, of course, but she was subdued enough to let me go back to bed for a bit. And, after a while, she grew calm enough to sleep in her own bed at the foot of ours. The next time there was a thunderstorm? Same story, only Chelsea became quieter even quicker. By the third thunderstorm – the makers say it usually takes at least three tries to notice improvement – she seemed almost grateful when the cape came out first sign of a storm.

What the experts say: "It does work sometimes; it does not work all the time," explained Bonnie Beaver, executive director of the American College of Veterinary Behaviorists.

Whether the Storm Defender succeeds seems to depend on the level of static electricity that builds up in the coats of some medium- and long-haired dogs before and during a storm.

"The static electricity starts to tingle and they begin to dread that feeling when a storm is coming," she said. "It's a learned behavior."

The cape cuts the static, Beaver explained. It may also simulate the comfort of a hug, she said.

Those theories were borne out by researchers at the Cummings School of Medicine at Tufts University who conducted two scientific studies of the Storm Defender. In the first trial, 10 out of 14 dog owners reported a moderate or good effect from the cape, while four reported little or no effect. Preliminary results of the second trial, which compared the Storm Defender with a placebo cape with no metallic lining, showed that two-thirds of dogs in both groups were calmed by the device.

But some dogs don't feel the static, or don't react to it, Beaver said. They may not be calmed by the cape because what frightens them about a storm is the loud sounds or sudden lights. For those dogs, a visit to the vet for anti-anxiety medications may be the only solution.

Bottom line: The embarrassment of dressing your dog like a magician is well worth the peace and quiet of a calm pooch on a stormy night.

By Diane Mapes

What it is: Flex-Away facial exerciser and toner, $49,  www.flexawaysystem.com

What it claims to do: The manufacturer, Hanna Ibes, Inc., says the Flex-Away facial exerciser gives the face and neck muscles the "workout they need to stay fit and healthy." It promises users will see their "down-turned lips become rounded and lifted, giving the entire face a younger appearance" and "lower cheeks appear hollower for a classic sculptured look."

The device promises to exercise the "large and powerful muscles surrounding the lips," which supposedly connect to the rest of your face muscles like "the hub of a wheel, with many spokes."

Our experience: When my Flex-Away arrived in the mail, it sat on the coffee table for a month. Why? I was terrified of the thing.

The mouthpiece – a soft rubber horseshoe threaded by a large rubber band – looked like a cross between a horse bit and something out of  "The Silence of the Lambs." But after weeks of sidelong glances – and a growing awareness of yet another looming birthday – I decided to put my money where my mouth is.

Thankfully, there was a DVD included with the kit (also included: about 250 rubber bands), otherwise I wouldn't have been able to figure it out with the Step-by-Step User's Guide. I'm sure it's just me, but the pamphlet's instructions – "Slide the shield along the outside of teeth all the way back into mouth, while pushing in the front so half-moon flaps rest behind front teeth. Study this drawing which shows how the device would look if you could see inside your mouth" – were confusing and the crude drawings reminiscent of a 1911 doctor's book I used to scare myself with back when I was a child. But after viewing the DVD about 10 times, and using a hand mirror (as recommended), I finally figured out how to slide the "bit" into place so I could "flex away the signs of aging and stress."

Flex-Away users are directed to do between 40 to 70 "pushes" per session with a minimum of two sessions per day. Basically, you stick the thing in your mouth and make an "O" face over and over again. I did mine for two weeks – about 50 "pushes" per session –  even achieving this much was difficult since the device never seemed to stay in place. Whether this was due to a design flaw in the Flex-Away or in my jaw is hard to say.

I can say that after using the Flex-Away I did feel something: tenderness in the corners of my mouth (among the optional components are a few pairs of foamy "bumpers" which you can thread onto the device to guard against this), a gagging sensation and muscle soreness (caused either from the device's "Patented Vertical Lift" or from the rictus of horror that passed over my face each time I looked in the mirror).

But after two weeks of use, I did not see any difference in my upper and lower cheeks, labial and marionette lines, or jaw line, chin and lips. I still looked old.

What the experts say:  Dr. Anthony Youn, a Michigan-based, board-certified plastic surgeon and msnbc.com contributor, says I shouldn't feel bad about that my Flex-Away didn't revitalize my aging face.

"There's never been a study that's shown that flexing the muscles does anything," he says. Youn says there are three main ways that a face ages. First, by the loss of volume in the skin; second, by changes in the skin such as fine lines and wrinkles; and third, by drooping skin and muscles. "The idea for some of these flexing devices is that by flexing the muscle, it becomes stronger and hopefully doesn't droop as much," he says. "But the problem with a drooping muscle is not that it's weak; it's that it's lax; it's stretched out. Scientifically, as a physician, and one who's taken many gross anatomy courses, it makes absolutely no scientific sense to me at all that these claims are true."

Bottom line: While I fit snugly into the boomer demographic that the Flex-Away folks are aiming at (and am certainly as vain as the next gal), this is the not the anti-aging product for me. The thing didn't fit in my mouth right and it felt uncomfortable to wear. Plus, I kept worrying that it was going to take out a tooth or something. And speaking of teeth, every time I looked in the mirror at the soft white rubber nestled up against my aging choppers, it made me realize that my anti-aging efforts (and money) might be better spent on a bleaching kit. For me, the Flex-Away was not the "The Quintessential Beauty Enhancer," although I did feel much prettier once I stopped using it. 

By Melissa Dahl, health editor

What it is: FitFlops, $49.99, www.thefitflop.com. Available at Bath and Body Works, Macy's and Victoria's Secret.

What it claims to do: Provide you with a "bum-blasting workout" disguised as a 30-minute walk. The manufacturer says a stroll in these shoes will trim and tone thighs, calves and glutes, thanks to its MicroWobbleboard technology (patent pending).

thefitflop.com

My experience: Promises, promises. I was lured into buying the FitFlops after an ad from Bath and Body Works for the shoes landed in my inbox. (I'm a sucker for punny subject lines: "Try These on for Thighs!") The ad included an exhaustive, five-part diagram of the shoe that was impressively complicated, and the manufacturer's Web site has actual warnings all over the place: "Use progressively to avoid excessive muscle soreness." "Always consult your (doctor) prior to undertaking strenuous exercise." (Plus, it's recommended by Oprah!) Maybe after a few miles in these things, I'd look as good as this girl next time I felt like wearing only FitFlops and panties.

But if we're really talking warnings, this is one I would've appreciated: FitFlops may be chunkier than they appear online. Also, a big, embarrassing "FITFLOPS" insignia is stamped on the top of the shoe (where the straps meet) and into the sole of the shoe (so you leave their branding wherever you tread). On top of all that, I'd also made the huge mistake of selecting soccer-mom pink.

Still, I started swapping a couple of gym workouts a week for a three-mile walk around a lake near my house while in FitFlops. As ugly as the chunkiness may be, it makes the FitFlops super comfy. Each step actually did feel a little easier on my feet than most of my other shoes. Maybe they really were absorbing shock, as the manufacturer claims – or at least, they were doing a better job of it than my Havaianas.

After a walk around the lake, I stood in line at a Starbucks and considered my backside. It felt like I had taken a really pathetic turn on the seated leg curl machine at the gym – the muscles in my legs had certainly been "activated," but not much. 

Since I figured the FitFlops weren't enough to really replace a workout, I dared wearing them in public as I ran errands. Maybe the firmer area at the toe really does "promote faster push-off," because I was hyperspeed-walking while wearing these things. Of course, that may have been because I didn't want to be seen in them!

What the experts say: The FitFlops and, of course, the MicroWobbleboard, actually do provide some great fitness benefits, says msnbc.com fitness contributor Jay Blahnik, a Laguna Beach, Calif.-based fitness trainer who has worked with celebrities, including Jane Fonda. It just doesn't provide benefits anyone really wants. The wobbleboard makes walking a little harder for your feet, which normally don't have to work very hard during workouts, when they're stuffed in cushy athletic shoes, Blahnik says.

 "The concept of strengthening your feet – that's a great concept, but it's not going to lead you to smaller thighs or a smaller butt," Blahnik says. He thinks the FitFlops might also help improve your posture and balance, which aren't often at the top of my reasons to hit the gym.

Gina Lombardi, a personal trainer and the host of FIT TV's "Fit Nation,"compares the wobbleboard embedded in the shoe to a super small version of a stability ball or a Bosu, and she agrees with Blahnik – the benefits are real, but a bit overblown.

"That wobbleboard in there is making it unstable for the foot, so the foot does have to work a little harder, and it does kind of project on up the legs, and your quads and your glutes have to work a little harder – but it's still such a miniscule movement," Lombardi says. "It's hard for me to believe that it's significant enough for it to ever replace a workout."

Bottom line: Wearing FitFlops will strengthen your feet and improve your posture and balance – but honestly, who cares about that? Most of us are interested in the FitFlops' promises of trimming and toning your backside, which the sandals only do on a very small scale. You will, however, be inadvertently training to racewalk at the Olympics with these guys.

By Paige West, director of interactive projects

What it is: Kinoki Detox Foot Pads, $19.99, www.buykinoki.com

What it claims to do: The foot pads collect "harmful toxins" from your body while you sleep, says the manufacturer, by "cleansing and detoxifying your skin's outer layers," boosting your energy level and improving your health and wellness.

My experience: I was surfing the Web on a rainy Seattle night with the TV on in the background when whatever late-night show I'd been watching ended and suddenly, images of a woman in a kimono filled the screen as a voice-over told me about an ancient Japanese secret that would give me better health and well-being. The claims were so fantastic that it took me a while to decide whether I was watching a satirical sketch or an ad for a real product. 

The item in question? The Kinoki Detox Foot Pad – and it's real, all right.

Every night for two weeks, you attach a small, white pad to the bottom of your foot right before going to bed. While you sleep, the pad removes "heavy metals, metabolic waste, toxins, chemicals and more!" A fancy graphic on the Kinoki infomercial explained that the pad draws toxins down your legs and out through the soles of your feet like a biological magnet. There's even "proof" that it's working: After wearing it overnight, the pad is black and puffy, full of nasty crud that used to be floating around in your body. As a result, you will feel better and have more energy! At least, that's what the lady in the kimono seemed to be promising.

Putting it on, I discovered, is a little like building your own foot-sized Band-Aid. I followed the instructions by placing the pad in the middle of an accompanying piece of adhesive, pressed it on to the sole of my foot and went to bed. 

The next morning, my ticklish feet gamely endured my peeling the pad off when, to my surprise – and utter disgust – I found it had turned completely black. Worse yet, it smelled like a vile combination of sweat and the acrid smoke of a campfire. But that day at work I was oddly perky.  Maybe there was something to this detoxification system.

Alas, no.  The directions say that continued use is supposed to result in the pads becoming less and less black over time due to the gradual elimination of toxins from my body, but mine continued to be dark and smelly every morning.  The only pattern I saw was related to how long I'd slept – longer equaled blacker (though, luckily, not smellier).

And my higher energy level? That vanished, and I found myself in an ugly funk a few days into my experiment, but I blame that more on the gray Seattle weather than Kinoki.

Growing increasingly suspicious, I decided at the end of the two weeks to test a theory.  I held one of the foot pads over a kettle of boiling water, and within about 10 seconds, that familiar blackness and smoky odor became obvious.

What the expert says: Dr. Devra Davis, director of the Center for Environmental Oncology at the University of Pittsburgh and an expert on toxins, did a similar experiment:  She left the foot pads out overnight without their plastic packaging and saw the same effects.  She says the pads contain little more than green tea and vinegar.

"It doesn't make sense that these ingredients would produce that effect," said Davis, who suspects the blackness and odor are the result of the ingredients interacting with oxygen, heat or moisture. 

And while it's not unheard of for substances to get into our bodies via the skin, such as the nicotine patch or estrogen creams, Davis says she doesn't know of any therapy that actually pulls substances out of the body through the skin. 

Davis doubts the foot pads are harmful, but says "we really just don't know."

As for energy boost the first day I tested the pad, Davis says there's no way to know whether any psychological benefits are real or merely a placebo effect until controlled experiments are done.  (She doubts that will happen anytime soon since the Food and Drug Administration doesn't have authority over alternative therapies like Kinoki foot pads.)

Bottom Line:  While Kinoki foot pads probably won't hurt you, they likely won't help you either. Save your money and put it toward a nice pedicure.

By Linda Dahlstrom, health editor

What is it: Hula Chair; $129.95 at www.gadgetuniverse.com

What it claims to do: "Beautify" and build the body and "obese waist and belly." The manufacturer also says it will enhance circulation and, somehow, relieve hemorrhoids.

My experience: Promotional materials that come with the Hula Chair say that a "fat waist and belly are caused by the lack of sports and accumulation of fat on these parts." That is exactly my problem: No sports and fat on my waist have resulted in, well, a fat waist.

Part carnival ride, part hefty office furniture, the Hula Chair looks rather respectable. It's when you press the "on" button that things get weird. I've never been on a mechanical bull, but I suspect I'm in the ballpark of accurate comparison. On the lowest settings, the Hula Chair feels a little like being in a rowboat during a storm. On the highest, the chair bucked, thumped, crept across the room, threw me against its unpadded arms and generally beat me up. At no point did I feel like I was doing the hula.

But working your muscles isn't supposed to be comfortable, right? That's the point. No pain, no gain.

I'm just not sure a diaper rash is the right kind of pain. One of the days I tested the Hula Chair I wore a skirt with a rough texture. Add the friction of an hour's worth of gyrating movement on the chair's seat and a little sweat and the next morning I was digging through a cupboard for an old jug of baby powder. Clothing wasn't on the manufacturer's list of 27 "safety points for attention," but it did warn away those with "serious bleeding wounds," people with "equipment trapped inside" and "persons that need a rest cure" from using it. Also, stay off it when you're wet. Word to that.

Advertisements for the chair show people calmly working as they "hula." They seamlessly manage to file, type, talk on the phone – a great way to exercise at work, right? Except that I really couldn't work. I did manage to type while gyrating at the lower settings although I felt a little seasick after a while. As for the higher settings, I got tangled in the messenger bag near my leg, couldn't keep my hands steady enough to hold the phone, knocked papers off my desk and left a string of typos in my wake.

I wasn't the only one who had a hard time getting the job done. My colleague cover producer Josh Belzman tried leading the news meeting from the Hula Chair but could hardly read his notes. Also, he said,  "I'm a short guy and like the 'command seating' position. The Hula chair has no height adjustment, which makes it tough to use in an office environment."

Another co-worker, who is very slender, tried out the chair and had to hang on with both hands to keep from flying out of it. "That's a little too much stimulation," she decided.

Still, even if none of us could actually work while riding the chair, it was more fun than heading to the gym. And surely with all the contortions I had to make to keep myself from being flung from the chair, I was getting a good workout, right? Right?

What the expert says: Msnbc.com fitness contributor Jay Blahnik can understand the appeal of the Hula Chair. "We're attracted to things that look like a ride. It's especially appealing to people who are out of shape and have a harder time moving," said the Laguna Beach, Calif.-based fitness trainer who has worked with celebrities including Jane Fonda.

But will it strengthen my abs and slim down my waist? "None of those things are going to happen," said Blahnik, author of "Full Body Flexibility." But the chair does do something.  "It's passive exercise; the only effort is in reacting to what's happening," he said. Just as there's benefit to a physical therapist moving a paralyzed person's legs to help the circulation, the Hula Chair causes your body to react to being whirled around. "At the lowest level there is going to be a reaction in your abs, it's just that the claims are completely elevated."

Blahnik says that simply standing at your desk and doing hip circles or reaching over your head and bending side to side will have the same effect. "With the Hula Chair, you're moving the spine in the same [way], but it's not exercising."

Bottom line: The Hula Chair provides hilarity, excitement, suspense and an element of danger. What it doesn't offer is actual exercise.

By Diane Mapes, health correspondent

What it is: PedEgg; $10; available at www.pedegg.com or at Wal-Mart, Target, Walgreens, Bed Bath & Beyond and other stores.

As Seen on TV

What it claims to do: The manufacturer of the PedEgg, Telebrands, calls it the "ultimate foot file" which gently removes calluses and dry skin by using more than 135 stainless steel micro files. The files are attached to one side of a "comfortable, ergonomically designed" plastic egg, which also collects all of the skin shavings in a "convenient storage compartment.

My experience: I live in the city so I'm on my feet a lot, walking at least 10-15 miles a week and sometimes more. By the time summer rolls around, I need to invest in a bit of maintenance to get my little piggies ready for market (not to mention those strappy sandals). But how to go about it?

As much as I enjoy pedicures, they're a little pricey for my pocketbook and spending an hour in the bathroom with an emery board is about as thrilling as sanding a piece of cement. After a long hard winter, in fact, that's essentially what it is. The PedEgg – prudently priced at just $10 – seemed a great solution. I could pamper myself and still toe the budgetary line.

After picking one up, I spent 10 minutes reading through the instructions AND warnings before cracking it open and diabetics and/or those with poor circulation will definitely want to follow suit. Why? Because the PedEgg is basically a cheese grater for your foot. And baby, that sucker works.

I was able to shave a ton of rough winter skin from my heels and the balls of my feet within minutes. The PedEgg worked so well, in fact, that I decided to use it two nights in a row and wound up hot-footing it around town on burning pink heels for the next four days. Be warned: Overzealousness with this gadget is not a good idea. In other words, step lightly.

As for the PedEgg's much-touted ability to collect all the skin shavings in its hollow body thus allowing you to use it "anywhere" (At work? On the bus? On a date? Let's hope not), I'd take that with a grain of salt. If you can manage to keep the metal-side face up, the PedEgg does pretty well at keeping everything contained. But when you turn it upside down (which is something you'll need to do to sand down those stubborn calluses), you will notice a little "foot dandruff" on the floor. 

What the expert says: Dr. Howard Dinowitz, a Brooklyn, N.Y., podiatrist, says the first step in taking care of your feet is to visit the foot doctor to make sure you don't have any complications you're not aware of.  Once you're cleared, though, "callus removal is a wonderful thing," he says. Simple, over-the-counter remedies like the PedEgg can reduce some of the foot's roughness and dryness in a noninvasive way, he says, but don't overdo it.

 "Overzealous usage of any type of product that causes friction can definitely lead to problems with the skin," he says. That's particularly true for "someone who might be a diabetic and has a condition known as neuropathy" (i.e., the lack of peripheral sensation or feeling of the feet). Used in moderation, though, he says the PedEgg is "probably a great thing, especially if you use it in conjunction with a nice hydrating cream."

Bottom line: I have to just say it: The PedEgg swept me off my feet. Sure, the light dusting of "foot powder" that seeps out of its plastic shell is a bit annoying, especially after all the manufacturer's no-fuss, no-muss promises. But the PedEgg's metal filing surface does a great job of shaving off calluses quickly and painlessly (much better than any pedicurist I've ever been to). And it really does have a simple, sleek design. Sort of like your feet once you get them all gussied up.