We’ve all been there. Scrolling through social media, comparing our lives to perfectly curated feeds, and suddenly…bam. The crushing realization that even our houseplants are judging our life choices.
Okay, maybe not. But hear me out.
The Day My Plant Parent Guilt Took Root
It all started innocently enough. I was watering Beatrice (yes, she has a name, don’t judge), my prize-winning peace lily, when I noticed something unsettling. Her leaves, once droopy and on the verge of a dramatic fainting episode, were now perky and vibrant, practically glowing with good health.
Meanwhile, I was surviving on coffee and dry cereal, hadn’t seen the sun in days thanks to a brutal deadline, and couldn’t remember the last time I watered myself, let alone practiced self-care.
Exhibit A: My Friend’s Perfect Fiddle Leaf Fig (and Life)
My suspicions grew when I visited my friend, Sarah. Now, Sarah is the epitome of organization and balance. Her life is a Pinterest board come to life, complete with a successful career, a fulfilling social life, and a home that looks like it belongs in a magazine.
And her houseplants? Don’t even get me started.
Her fiddle leaf fig, notoriously finicky and prone to drama, was a towering testament to her plant parenting prowess. It was practically touching her ceiling, its leaves a vibrant emerald green, with nary a brown spot in sight.
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