Some women dream of granite. Others lust after marble. Me? I dream of glitter, cheesecake, and patriotism. And that’s how I ended up turning my tired, old countertops into a shimmering shrine of 1940s pin-up girls, sparkle, and family recipes. It’s art. It’s kitsch. It’s culinary chaos with cleavage.
You see, while the rest of the world was debating the merits of quartz versus concrete, I was flipping through vintage magazines and thinking, “You know what my kitchen needs? A gal in a polka-dot bikini holding a hot dog.” And this began my journey.
Armed with a pair of scissors, a vat of Mod Podge, and questionable decision-making skills, I began slicing up images of those glorious gals of yesteryear—ladies with hips, hair flips, legs from here to Egypt, confidence, and enough charisma to make a cold casserole feel steamy. These weren’t airbrushed or filtered. They weren’t trying to lose 20 pounds with a tea that tastes like boiled regret. No, they just were who they were. I crave being that!
And they are, right now, part of my countertop. Just this morning, as I buttered my toast, I found myself making eye contact with a very patriotic young lady right beneath my toaster. Stars, stripes, and… sparkles. Because yes, I poured glitter under the acrylic coating. It twinkles under the light like a disco ball at a butcher shop. Nothing says “glamour” like chopping onions on Betty Grable’s thigh.
Of course, this kitchen renovation wasn’t just about the pin-up girls. Nestled between Betty, Rita, and a gal named Connie who appears to be frying bacon in stilettos, are my mother’s most coveted recipes. Her famous meatloaf, her secret pie crust (spoiler alert – it’s lard), and the cookie recipe she only gave me once I promised not to mess it up with Splenda. “Real sugar only,” she demanded!
These countertops are more than just a surface for meal prep—they’re a conversation starter. A declaration. A glittery rebellion against beige Pinterest kitchens everywhere. People walk in and go, “Oh my. Is that…?” Yes. Yes it is. A barely-dressed woman holding a flag right next to Aunt Bertha’s potato salad recipe!
And let me tell you, the art makes me hungry. But I suspect it makes that husband of mine even hungrier. He claims he’s just admiring the craftsmanship, but he’s spent an awful lot of time hovering around the toaster lately, pretending to be confused about where we keep the bread.
What I’ve learned is that pin-up art adds whimsy and authenticity. These women radiate joy, strength, and unapologetic femininity. They make my kitchen feel alive—and not just from the smell of overcooked bacon.
Could I have had granite? Sure. Marble? Of course. But then I’d just be another countertop in a world full of countertops. Instead, I’ve got sparkle, sass, and a recipe for chicken divan under a lady who looks like she could sass-talk a general!
And if that’s not gourmet living, I don’t know what is.
On a side note- Just don’t set anything hot on the countertop unless you want a pin-up girl to suddenly look like she’s melting in the Sahara. Ask me how I know. And that’s all I’m going to say about that!
The Blonde on the Prairie is a lover of ND. She is an author and motivational speaker, owner of “Monkey Balls” food truck and Joyologist to the elderly, the disabled and, now, also to children wherever she is needed during the school year and beyond.
