The Self Forbidden Drink

I hate this. I hate this so much. I’m going against everything I stand for; I’m breaking one of the biggest promises I made to myself – well I’ve broken bigger, and this promise is really inferior to majority of the human population, but this promise is really big for me. I’ve built my personality on it. I’ve taken pride in saying ‘I’ve only ever gotten a bottle of water from here. Never wanted to buy anything more.’ I took pride in the shocked faces, raised eyebrows, nods of respect, mini salutes, handshakes, or high-fives I would receive. I would love seeing my father’s half impressed face when I would always decline visiting that place (despite his constant coaxing – he’s a gold card member for god’s sake. I should take advantage of that, he’d say. But I was a good girl. I would never take advantage of that privilege) 

Uh oh, that’s my name the dude just said. 

‘A double chocolate chip Frappuccino with no coffee for Ms. Pranavi.’   

He called me Ms. Pranavi – with the correct pronunciation.  

Oh god, I’m going to sob.  

I hate how much a part of me is loving this.  

My dad is beaming next to me, thoroughly enjoying the embarrassment and conflicted pain I’m going through. Ugh- I wish I could wipe that smug smile off of his face. The employee is looking at me expectantly – I think he has an inkling at how awkward this is for me because his smile is one of sheer amusement.  

Oh god, I’m regretting this entirely. I’m staring at the floor, refusing to make eye contact with anyone as I walk up to collect my order. I feel like everyone’s eyes are on me. Like I’m some circus clown, or a very badly written Hallmark movie that people will still watch because a popular child/teen actor has been re-launched as the main lead and it’s giving the audience a loving wave of nostalgia.  

Maybe this is how everyone felt when they went to collect their first order.  

How did the first person who ordered a Starbucks feel like? Because they must have been the trendsetter. Imagine having that much pressure on you. The entire world watching as you give this random coffee shop a try because, I do not know, your friends dared you to do it for shits and giggles. Did they get a discount? I remember getting a discount when my friends and I got into this newly opened cake shop. We were their first customers, so he gave us a free cookie box and a thirty percent discount on the final bill. That was a good day.  

But this day? Today? Today is not a good day.  

This is blasphemy. Ridiculous torture I say! I should not be put through this. This is highly stressful. 

Wait, is this what social anxiety feels like? 

Probably not. It’s definitely far worse.  

But I do think what I’m going through right now is at least 0.01% of what a socially anxious person feels in public places. I do want the earth to open up below me and swallow me whole. Anything is better than me having Starbucks.  

Ridiculous. I’m anxious because of a stupid drink.  

Actually no, it's not a stupid drink. It’s a capitalistic scheme to make money out of people who live for the aesthetic, enjoy using brands as a status symbol like iPhone users (… but I’m an iPhone user. Besides the point.) and want to just rub the fact that they can afford it on a daily basis onto people's faces – which is so stupid.  

Is that the correct use of the phrase ‘capitalistic scheme’? Does it matter? No. Because I hate Starbucks. I hate it. I am the professional spokesperson for #ihateStarbucks. What did Starbucks do to me apart from being irrationally expensive like every other foreign brand? Nothing. Why do I continue to give the brand baseless hate? I have no idea, but I will continue that trend with burning passion.  

Yet here I sit, drink in my hand, it's very pretty whipped cream topping staring at me through the plastic cove- AHA Plastic! Starbucks is not sustainable. Pranavi-1 Starbucks-0.  

But it has my name, that too the correct spelling. The one time I was hoping they’d mess it up, they got it right. Why? Why God why? Why couldn’t Starbucks be like every teacher I had in school? Why did they have to get it right? 

Dammit. Starbucks-1 Pranavi-1.  

Oh god, now I want to click a picture of the stupid drink. I’m turning into one of those Starbucks girlies. Oh god I hate this. I hate this so much. Why don’t my hands just stop moving? Why doesn’t someone just run into my table and spill the drink, so I don’t have to drink it? 

Why am I so afraid?  

Is it because I’m afraid I’ll like it? That I’ll want more?  

But I can control myself … right? 

Oh my god. Look at me. A capitalistic scheme is making me question my self-preservation and righteousness. Great, now I’m just using random fancy words to make it sound like I’m genuinely going through self-actualization and self-awareness (okay those words were used with the correct intention. Sometimes I’m smart like that). 

You know what? To hell with this. I’m getting over with it. Let’s stop the nonsense, stab the straw into the damn drink, take a sip, begrudgingly hate it, sadly finish it, go on a self-hate trip for giving into drinking the devil’s drink.  

Okay let’s do this. Let’s- Okay, we can do this. You can do this, Pranavi. Let’s give ourselves a little shake and pump up the body for this torture. Okay. Three … two … two … one point five … one point one five…. 

GIVE ME A SECOND DAD, I’M REALLY TRYING HERE.  

Deep breaths. God, I look so stupid. It’s just a silly goofy little drink from a super expensive brand. Nothing old. Nothing new. It’s just another drink. Let’s do this again. Close your eyes. Breathe in. Breathe out. Lift the cup. Place lips on straw. Good. Good. Now sip. Suck the air in, create a vacuum and pull the damn double chocolate chip Frappuccino without coffee and taste it.  

Three … two … one … mmm, okay, okay- oh boy. That is- that- 

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(the above is a short story in the style of stream of conscious thought)