The Day I Realized My Plant Was Judging My Life Choices


We’ve all been there. You know, that moment when you catch your pet giving you “the look.” The one that says, “Seriously? You’re eating THAT again?” But with a plant? That’s a whole new level of existential crisis.

The Unassuming Fiddle Leaf Fig

It all started innocently enough. I, like every other millennial with a Pinterest board and a dream, decided to adopt a fiddle leaf fig. I named him Ferdinand, because why not? He was majestic, with leaves the size of my head and an air of quiet dignity.

Ferdinand, I misted him, I even serenaded him with the occasional Taylor Swift song (don’t judge). He, in return, graced my apartment with his leafy presence. Life was good.

The Dreaded Fiddle Leaf Fig Droop

Then it happened. I woke up one morning, bleary-eyed and reaching for coffee, when I noticed it. One of Ferdinand’s leaves was drooping. Not just drooping, but hanging on for dear life, like it had just finished a marathon it never signed up for.

Panic set in. Had I overwatered him? Underwatered him? Was there a draft? Did he not like Taylor Swift? (The horror!). I consulted Google, that ever-reliable source of both comfort and anxiety.

Turns out, fiddle leaf figs are dramatic. Like, really dramatic. A slight change in environment, a missed watering, and bam! – they unleash the droop. I gave Ferdinand some emergency plant food and hoped for the best.

The Side-Eye of Shame From My Houseplant

The leaf perked up eventually, but something had changed. I couldn’t shake the feeling that Ferdinand was…judging me. Every time I walked past, I’d swear I caught a glimpse of leafy side-eye. Was that a slight rustle of disapproval when I ordered takeout for the third time that week? Did he sigh when I spent an entire Saturday binge-watching reality TV?