Anyone who has never made a mistake has never tried anything new. Albert Einstein
It was a sweltering summer day in the dungeon apartment. The haggled-for farmer’s-market irises were weeping onto the kitchen counter. I flicked water on them and opened the window, encouraging them to cheer up. Then I faced the pineapple.
Armed with a point-and-shoot and a butcher’s knife, I attacked the pineapple with stabs and flashes. Juice flew. Flesh dropped. Bad lighting be damned, I was going to do this. I was going to blog this. I was going to create an entire concept around a lone pineapple and a dream.
I chopped and blended, took horrible pictures and breathed through my mouth, put-off by the smell of a fruit I don’t like to eat, let alone rub on my skin. But it was a mission, a fantasy, a homemade beauty recipe that I’d found in the pages of Body & Soul two days before. The Ultimate Recipe that would part the heavens and put food on faces everywhere.
It was the little fetus of an idea for this blog that took two more years of gestation … questioning, fretting, and procrastinating. Because this recipe failed. Miserably.
This recipe – it was going to fix my calloused feet and become the inspiration for trying oddball beauty recipes – for the world! – and spreading the homemade love far and wide. Instead here’s how it went:
I chopped up a pineapple. I put it in a food processor, whirred the pineapple around, and listened as the food processor spat out a Pop! and then cat-called into silence. Undeterred, I dumped the flesh on the counter and mashed it with a fork. The food processor sat by, taunting me with its blades and blown fuses. I waved a knife at it. It knew I was bluffing. Food processors always know.
After 20 minutes of mashing pineapple flesh to gooey perfection, it was time to soak the dogs. But where? What did I have that I could jam my ginormous feet in, so the pineapple could work its acidic, exfoliating action?
A pan.
The pan I saute my pasta in.
Gag.
But I did it. Sloshing the pineapple into the pan, I carefully carried it into the bathroom and parked myself on the toilet lid. I looked at the pineapple mush. The mush looked at me.
In my feet went.
It was disgusting. It was smelly. Goopy pineapple blobs plopped onto my bathroom rug as I turned my feet this way and that, trying to keep my toes from looking permanently disfigured by the small fit of the pan. I took pictures. I took 132 pictures.
Here I was, 33 years old, sitting on the toilet lid, sweating like a heavyweight prize fighter, trying desperately to take flattering pictures of my feet. My cat stood in the doorway, alternately laughing at me and licking his butt. It seemed appropriate.
After an hour of problematic prep and 30 minutes of foot-soaking photography, I lifted one foot from the pan. It dripped. It dripped all the way over on its wide swing to the tub, and I sat splayed, the entire bathroom reeking of pineapple – because the entire bathroom was now covered with pineapple.
I no longer cared. I just wanted the freaking fruit off my feet.
I washed them, then, in the tub whose drain decided to stop working at that moment, holding my feet over an ever-rising tide of disgusting, dirty pineapple soup. I cried a little. Then I cried a lot.
The callouses and cracks on my feet were exactly the same as they were before I battled the fruit. Only now they smelled like pineapple.
I hate the smell of pineapple.
That was the moment I gave up. I deleted the pictures from the camera, cleaned the entire apartment of all traces of pineapple, and went back to watching Will & Grace reruns.
What a silly, stupid idea.
A blog about homemade beauty recipes.
As if anybody would ever want to read that anyway.
Ask Crunchy Betty – What’s Your Ish?
Ohhh I love pineapple, but I feel your pain. If someone were to make me squish my feet in mashed papaya or melon (I loathe cantaloupe and honey dew, and I can smell all 3 from like 50 feet away. They all smell like dog spit.), I’d threaten them with various sharp, pointy objects.
I’m so glad that the pineapple wasn’t your undoing! The world needs you!
If you do not try these things, who will?
If you do not attempt the revolution of pineapple feet, who will attempt?
We depend on you! Otherwise how would we know about the lavender-vinegar hair rinses??
That which does not soften your feet makes you stronger! (I read that somewhere.)
And despite not liking actual pineapple, I do like the smell.
And if it’s in sweet and sour pork, I just love it.
Damnit – now I want chinese food. For breakfast.
“That which does not soften your feet makes you stronger.”
I am writing that down … or typing, whatever. And some day, when I write a book, I am using that. And I’m attributing it to you.
Enjoy your fame. In my book. That I’m writing. Some day.
(When I leap.)
LOVE the quote. As I started to read your post, I thought “Alright! I just bought a pineapple yesterday! What is she going to… Oh dear!”.
Hey, how do you know if you don’t try, right? You took one for team. And we appreciate ALL you do whether it works or not! Especially if it’s amusing at the same time!:)
Sorry about that! You know, one thing you could do with the pineapple is just cut a tiny piece and rub it on your face. It’ll exfoliate and lighten your skin (if you want that). Just don’t leave it on too long. Rinse within 10 minutes. It’s pretty potent stuff. It just wasn’t quite strong enough for my eighty-million layers of dead skin on my heels.
Mwah!
At least you tried! Thank you for sharing this. It couldn’t have been easy, but we will all appreciate it so much more when you find the right food concoction for your feet.
Aw. Shucks, lady. Thanks. 🙂
HA! and how wrong you were girlfriend.
I’m glad the idea stuck 🙂
You’re beyond pineapples in pans now baby!
I’ve graduated to Epsom salt in pans. It’s an honor, really. For my feet, and for the pan.
PS – I now have a dedicated “foot pan.” Don’t be afraid to come over for dinner.
Aww, sorry it didn’t work. It’s not you, it’s the pineapple. It’s evil and it smells too sweet. I like to read your blog, even when it doesn’t work quite right. Let me know if you find something for feet. I’ve given up on mine. I just wear socks all the time and pretend their not there.
Actually, go back to the post before this one and read what I told LulaLola. Ped-Egg and then a sugar or salt scrub (with oil).
I need to do a full post on that. My feet are getting horribly cracked, ’cause I haven’t paid any attention to them lately. They’re revolting. Literally and figuratively. Hehe.
At least you got a great post out of the adventure.
Haha. Yeah. You would have never convinced me of that when it happened.
I want to read it!
I love pineapple but I empathise with aiming for a post that doesn’t want to be written. My friend gave me a gift of a professional manicure this week. I tried to take photos of my pampered hands but I was in a self critical mood and every photo looked like ten fat sausages with stumpy cherries on the end. I deleted most of them and am still hesitating about whether to blog the “ish” ones. Being a hard critic is great when you know that you want good pictures and will work hard for them but it is demoralising when you have a picture in your head that just wont happen in real life.
Don’t give up!!!
What would we all do without you…?!
Haha! I know exactly what you’re saying, Gina. I wasn’t blessed with the lankiest of fingers. I HATE how they look whenever I’m trying to take a mirror picture and they’re wrapped around the camera. Looks like a giant paw.
I’ve really had to get over a lot of that with this little blog.
Now there’s nothing I won’t take a picture of – even avocado up my nose.