Agency

In Which Kombucha-Beet Juice is Universally Detested

a few days later

Margot stopped at the vegan smoothie place on her way into the office. She found herself in there most mornings, fooling herself that drinking one of their green concoctions proved her somehow worthier than her fellow human being. Healthier, certainly. Except that, judging by the length of the line she stood in, her fellow human beings also started their days in the very same way.

As she inched forward she had plenty of time to observe that at least 8 in 10 people ordered the same green smoothie; to wonder why the smoothie place even bothered with the other flavours; even to consider with a marketer's interest the mega-explosion of the humble kale -- now ubiquitous, but previously only enjoyed by ... well, she couldn't think of who really. Hippies? Did they eat kale? Did kale even exist before 2010? She searched her childhood memory banks for any evidence that kale could have been purchased during the 80s or 90s and absolutely couldn't find it. Swiss chard, possibly. Maybe she recollected a few limp leaves of chard lying languidly across a bed of mashed potatoes in a restaurant she might have eaten in a decade or so ago. But nothing like the find-it-everywhere-blend-it-into-everything kale of today. It occurred to Margot, based on these musings, that society (North American society, at least) had evolved its opinion of health food in general. If one wanted to martyr oneself, one couldn't solely rely on having a kale smoothie for breakfast. Everyone did.

She drew nearer to the ordering counter, observing the array of wheatless treats and wondering idly how many calories the words "energy ball" obscured. She wasn't a calorie counter exactly, but she was wary. She had been a chubby child. As her mother unforgivingly pointed out immediately before every holiday meal, her figure still tended toward 'robust.' Like an ex-convict released back into the world, it required vigilant monitoring and should be considered prone to backsliding at the slightest temptation. Who knew if one energy ball would be the trigger that set its craven instincts loose again. It might start with a seemingly healthy protein bar, but before she knew it, she'd be hiding in drawstring joggers and oversized hoodies like when she was 13. Not that she thought a woman should have to hide herself just because she didn't match societal standards. Only that Margot herself found it impossible to bear the discomfort of a tight waistband when her body insisted on breathing.

The line moved another person-length forward, and she felt her phone buzz inside her jacket pocket. She pulled it out and saw it was a text from Martin.

Martin: Alarm didn't go off. Cover for me?

Annoyed, Margot stabbed her reply.

Margot: You know it's critique this morning, right? Niall might be in. I can't cover you.

She hit send, then immediately felt badly.

Margot: I'll tell them your cat needed to go to the vet.

Martin replied after a short pause.

Martin: kk tx see you sooooon! xoxo

Margot: You text like a teenaged girl, FYI.

She awaited his reply, but it didn't come. He'd be rolling over for another hour's sleep, no doubt. Argh. Why was she always letting him get away with being so useless? It said more about her than it did about him. She was a wimp. Still a socially terrified, chubby little girl inside. She annoyed herself.

It was her turn at the ordering counter at last. Margot scanned the menu above the bank of whirring blenders and decided impulsively on the scariest, most foreign-sounding thing she saw.

"I'll have a 16oz Kombucha Beet Gut-Defender, please. With a spirulina shot."

The girl behind the till shuddered almost imperceptibly, but punched Margot's morning juice order through.