i do not pumpkin spice.
A reminder that a pumpkin spice-free world, is a safer world for us all.
If you know anything about me, or if you’ve ready some of my earlier blog posts, you’ll know my disdain for things that exist at the intersection of over-hype and propoganda. So it should come at little surprise that I am deeply and truly not a fan of pumpkin spice.
The origins of my long-standing hate of the flavor has deep roots, that if I can recall correctly, I only fully became able to articulate during my pregnancy when all of my senses were hyper-sensing, and I went on a rampage throwing all of the pumpkin spice smelling scents (that I had purchased no less) out of the house once I got to the second trimester. I was livid to find that my then partner had retrieved them from the trash to hide them in a place that he planned to pull them out of once my pregnancy senses were no longer heightened.
But that day has never come.
You see, unfortunately, I started not only smelling all of the pumpkiny-cinnamon-spicy scents, but beyond that thin layer, I started to pick up on the chemical smell that those smells had mixed with to something that made my stomach turn on first whiff. I could still gag thinking about it now. It was the thing beyond the surface that I could not get down with. And once I had smelled it…I could never un-smell it or stop thinking about the fact that in addition to being disgusting, it was also most likely doing our bodies no favors to ingest.
As chronic over-thinkers tend to do, I then found some way to extend my frustration from what started with candles, room sprays and plug-ins to to all things even that even hinted at the idea of pumpkin spice. And as you may have guessed, persona non grata became the drink at the mermaid logo’d coffee chain we all know so well. Yuck.
The push earlier and earlier to celebrate the most commercial holidays that are associated with the seasons has long pissed me off, but the use of pumpkin spice as the thin layer atop a sordid capitalist cake, just became something I could no longer pretend to not hate.
And I stand on that.
Because at 41, I’ve grown increasingly disinterested in pretending and performing in exchange for masking my authentic voice. I more fully step into all of my senses daily. The ability to notice and feel the energy of others around me. The awareness of the historical social details and power dynamics that are at play when people from different backgrounds interact. The sometimes unfortunate skill of being able to anticipate when ish is about to go left or unravel or get awkward. I’ve simply run out of desire to not be fully me.
This also means that I am doing more of owning and embracing out loud all of the quirkiness, superficiality, intensity, abnormality, depth and intentionality that makes me me.
So while I do not, and will not likely ever pumpkin spice…I do…
fall manicure
converse with my plants and puppy
second hand embarrass easily
change outfits more times than one can count in a day
get an attitude for sometimes nothing
apologize when I realize I was wrong
underwear dance party
change my personality with my hairstyles
analysis paralysis
existential crisis often
calm myself back down with my breath
rock myself and others to find balance
hold my own hand while sleeping
parasocial relationship
…any many other things that I’m sure you’ll learn if you stick around long enough. I hope you will (blushes in vulnerablity ).
Take care Loved Ones,
Rebecca
