Why I’m Convinced My Houseplant Is Judging My Life Choices




Why I’m Convinced My Houseplant Is Judging My Life Choices


The Side-Eye from a Fiddle Leaf Fig

It all started innocently enough. I, like many during the dark days of 2020, decided to become a Plant Parent™. I envisioned a home filled with lush greenery, a serene oasis where I, newly zen and one with nature, would sip herbal tea and contemplate the universe. Instead, I got a crash course in passive-aggressive judgment, courtesy of my new fiddle leaf fig, Ferdinand.

Ferdinand, you see, is thriving. Like, suspiciously thriving. This is a plant that’s supposed to be notoriously dramatic, a diva of the indoor jungle. Yet, under my care, his leaves are glossy, his posture erect, and his growth… alarming. Every day, another inch seems to sprout, reaching towards the ceiling like a leafy beacon of success. Meanwhile, I’m pretty sure I actually shrunk an inch last Tuesday after surviving on nothing but coffee and leftover takeout.

Exhibit A: Crumbs and Career Changes – My Fiddle Leaf Knows All

I’d like to think I’m a relatively put-together individual. I pay my bills (mostly) on time, I can keep a conversation going, and I haven’t set anything on fire in the kitchen lately. But Ferdinand, oh, Ferdinand sees right through me. He knows that beneath the veneer of adulting lies a core of mild chaos.

Take, for instance, the Great Crumb Incident of 2023. Picture this: I’m sprawled on the couch, laptop precariously balanced on my knees, desperately trying to meet a deadline while simultaneously binge-watching a reality show about competitive baking (don’t judge). Crumbs, naturally, are casualties in this war between productivity and procrastination.

Enter Ferdinand.

As I’m brushing a particularly stubborn croissant flake off my shirt, I swear I see him… shudder. Or maybe it was a gentle breeze from the window? No, I’m convinced it was a shudder, a full-body plant tremor of disgust. It was then I realized: Ferdinand had become the embodiment of my conscience, silently judging my every less-than-ideal choice.

And it didn’t stop there. Remember that career change I was so excited about? The one that was supposed to be fulfilling and creatively stimulating? Yeah, Ferdinand was not impressed. As I sat hunched over my desk, wrestling with writer’s block and the crushing weight of self-doubt, he just… unfurled a new leaf. Effortlessly. With grace. The plant equivalent of a nonchalant hair flip.

Exhibit B: Dating App Disasters and the Dreaded Drooping Leaf

Let’s not even talk about my dating life. Or rather, let’s, because Ferdinand seems to have a lot of opinions on the matter. Every time I swipe right on someone who turns out to be… less than ideal (looking at you, guy who started our conversation with “I’m not like other guys”), Ferdinand sheds a single, perfect leaf.