Boys at the pool would tell me that I’d be beautiful, really beautiful — if only I had Violet’s face, her feathery hair, her silver rings on my fingers. And I closed my eyes and lived the rest of the summer like that, her head in mine, on mine. — The Sky Isn’t Visible from Here, by yours truly.
After weeks of contemplating a visit to The Fat Radish, I finally did it (Alice Gao’s vivid snaps had me swooning. So much so that I nixed my Sunday routine and made the trek into the city for brunch), and believe me when I say that I’ve no regrets. From the impeccable service to a dining space that you’d only dream of replicating in your home, to the flaky biscuits and farm-fresh eggs to the duck-fat fries and juicy burger, you will fall rapturously in love with the restaurant and proceed to HOOVER EVERYTHING ON THE MENU. And no one should stop you — it would be criminal to.
But something else is gnawing at me. I witnessed a few comments on Alice’s site + read a few articles based on a very lovely foodie I’ve only started following — the strangeness of coveting someone else’s life. I’ll spare you the diatribe, but I’ll say this: a DSLR camera and a lithe figure are not worth making yourself blue. What people choose to publish online is only but a small fraction of their true selves — a representation of their life they feel comfortable sharing, but it’s not the whole of it. I’m sure these lovely ladies hurt like the rest of us, and instead of coveting a stranger’s life, let’s focus on finding the remarkable in our own. I have to repeat this to myself daily, as many of you probably think I live this very charmed existence and I definitely don’t.
Find the remarkable in the ordinary. Ferret out the beauty in your life and celebrate it. Covet it.