The Side-Eye From a Fiddle Leaf Fig: A Plant Parent’s Story
Let’s be honest, we’ve all been there. That moment you lock eyes with your pet and swear you see a flicker of judgment in their gaze. But this isn’t about my disapproving cat, oh no. This, my friends, is about the day my plant threw some serious shade my way.
It all started innocently enough. I, like many during the dark days of 2020, decided to become a plant parent. I envisioned a lush indoor jungle, a testament to my nurturing spirit. I settled on a Fiddle Leaf Fig, Ferdinand, because, obviously, if I’m going to do this whole plant thing, I’m going big.
For the first few weeks, Ferdinand and I were basically besties. I watered him on schedule, dusted his leaves, even played him some light Mozart (don’t judge, the internet said it helps!). He seemed happy, or as happy as a non-sentient being can be. Then came the Great Pizza Incident of 2021.
Picture this: it’s a Friday night, I’m in my pajamas, three seasons deep into a questionable reality TV show, and surrounded by enough pizza boxes to build a small fort. As I reach for another slice, my gaze falls upon Ferdinand. His once-proud leaves are drooping, practically touching the floor in a dramatic display of despair.
Was he…judging me?
Okay, maybe not. I mean, plants don’t judge…right? But as I shamefully gathered the pizza boxes and contemplated the nutritional value (or lack thereof) of my dinner choices, I couldn’t shake the feeling that Ferdinand was silently reproaching me.
The Day the Leaves Dropped (Literally): My Plant’s Passive-Aggressive Protest
Things escalated from there. Forgot to water him for a few days? Cue the dramatic leaf drop. Considered ordering takeout instead of cooking a healthy meal? Ferdinand would develop a suspicious brown spot. It got to the point where I felt like every one of my questionable life choices was reflected in the state of my once-thriving plant.