You don’t have to smile. You don’t have to have it figured out. You don’t have to have the boyfriend, the wife, the kid, the life, you don’t have to have the family, the friends, the perfect pants, the hair. You don’t have to be the boss babe. You don’t have to acquire the blender, the adaptogens, the serum, the leggings, the plants, the green drink. You don’t have to do wellness, face masks, self-care, mantras. You don’t have to get manifestation. You don’t have to be holier than everyone else, you don’t have to know more, you don’t have to keep seeking until your mind and your body and your heart are so exhausted you have nothing left to give and no boundaries left to speak of. You don’t have to believe people who fabricate authority from privilege. You don’t have to prostrate yourself before the gods of social media. You don’t have to refresh over and over and over again, scrolling to abate insecurity, uncertainty, confusion. You don’t have to want more, better, faster, thicker, thinner, stronger, skinnier, heavier, richer, cooler, nicer, woker, more zen. You don’t have to. You can stop. You can breathe. You can just be. For one. Damn. Minute.
I took my moment this morning with a papaya from the land topped with strawberry rose coconut yogurt — which I recommend as a treat for your beautiful self next time you’re looking for one; it’s probably my favorite yogurt I’ve ever had — tahini, cacao nibs, pink grapefruit, and begonia flowers! Which are edible! And delicious. They’re tart and citrusy. Begonias are everywhere, but please don’t eat the flowers unless you know the plant hasn’t been sprayed.
This papaya with yogurt and bougey toppings is not posing as a suggestion for what your food should look like, it’s just some f*cking fruit that I wanted to eat today. That I had the privilege to. I hope someone tags me with a bag of fast food that made them feel just as feisty and free. Know what I mean?
K. Rant over.
