The Pits of Fiery Pain

Now when I told you I was going to write about bloopers I’ve made, ya probably didn’t know I was going to get right up in, er, well, my pits. But we are. And it’s going to be painful. Literally and embarrassingly. But for the sake of your pits, and my future pits, and for the love of a good laugh…

Several year ago, my new hubby and I were down visiting my sister and her family in hot Tennessee. We were having a heyday torturing nieces and a nephew. Such giggle fests! This was also during my early stages of experimenting with homemade deodorant. The jury was still out whether or not it worked, so I had brought it along to get my sister’s opinion. 

Sunday morning came and the hubbub of everyone getting ready for church on time with only one bathroom began. When my turn came for the shower I jumped in, washed my hair shaved my armpits and jumped out. Heading back to the bedroom I immediately slathered on homemade deo so the Tennessee heat wouldn’t undue my fresh-shower-smell.

Well howdy doo dee! Say hello to a frenzied maniac. My pits felt like someone was torching them with a combination of hot oil and hot sauce. I lit into the bathroom and threw my armpits under the faucet trying to scrub the burn away. 

Bad idea.

That only seemed to expound the pain and I literally went crying to my sister to make it stop. For the love of armpits everywhere MAKE IT STOP.

I don’t remember what we all tried, but I have vague memories of bread, milk, lettuce, oh wait. That was the cayenne incident. (But FYI they don’t work for armpits either. I really need to figure out some new weapons for the burn sensation.)

By this time I now was not only in pain but I had a severe rash under both armpits as well. I was walking around the house with my arms up blowing on my pits since that was the only thing keeping them from igniting into flame again. 

Somehow I made it through church. Possibly with or without tissues under each armpit. And my husband may or may not have had fingernail claw marks in his arms from my grip of fiery pain. If the sermon would have been one of brimstone and fire I would have shouted a resounding AMEN! And meant it. 

Truth be told, that rash hung on for several weeks. During which time I was not able to wear homemade deodorant or otherwise. The combination of freshly shaved armpit and the heat of Tennessee made my under arms extremely susceptible to the sting from the baking soda and essential oils in the deodorant. Do not try that at home, people!

I am happy to say, that after that fiasco and a few more nasty looking deodorant recipe attempts, I now have one that I use faithfully. No more fiery pits, and no more stinky pits. I shall share that recipe with you shortly. 


  1. Oh my goodness, another hilarious story I don't think I've ever heard! You write very descriptively. I can feel the fire right now, lol.


  2. This story is so funny, Bethany. It certainly wasn't funny at the time, but your description of what you went through is both hilarious and painful to read. Your experience while in church must have made for some squirming around (and not from Deb's children)! Looking forward to more “bloopers”. Someday, you'll have to put all your writings in book form.


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