Dear Woman in the Coffee Line,
As soon as my eyes fell upon you, I knew who you were. Before your perfectly plump lips parted, probably decorated by Kylie’s latest lip kit, I knew just what you’d order: a pumpkin spice latte. Underneath your curled chocolate brown hair, sparkling hazel eyes, and flowery scent, you tried (and failed) to hide an unfortunate secret. Perhaps you weren’t even trying at all. After all, you practically shoved a neon sign in my face with your Uggs, your hashtags, and the 4,000 selfies you posted to Snapchat with your rose gold iPhone 6S.
Yeah, as soon as I saw you, I knew who you were. The bane of my existence. The poster child of Instagram. The pumpkin-spice lover who comes out from undercover as soon as fall hits.
I don’t even know why you bothered me. All you wanted was a latte. All I wanted was a frappucino. We were just two coffee lovers, joined by fate, and yet you repulsed me. In hindsight, I think I repulse myself.
You can’t help the fact that you love pumpkin spice lattes, that you like your feet snuggled by fuzzy boots, or that rose gold is your favorite color of all time. You can’t help the fact that just by being yourself, approximately half the female population simultaneously wants to be you and destroy you.
I’m really sorry for being one of those people. I didn’t know anything about you, and instead, I relied on some half-formed idea that I was better than you all because I was “different.” To me, you represented what I thought I should strive to be--put together, gorgeous, popular--and wasn’t. I wasn’t repulsed by you; I think I was jealous.
So, the next time you walk up to the counter and order your latte, don’t worry that the cashier already had your order punched in, that the boy behind you snickered judgmentally, or that someone like me stood in the back and rolled my eyes. You’re not basic; you’re unique, and you can have your pumpkin spice and drink it too.
Apologetically,
An Unjustly Judgemental Coffee Lover
