The Menagerie of Wellness

Modern life is drowning in wellness jargon, masking contradictions and human pretensions.

- RENÉE RANCHAN

I'm on a getaway, ostensibly to recharge, but really to escape the cacophony of buzzwords that have invaded every nook and cranny of modern life like a swarm of unruly wasps. Organic, vegan, curated, sustainable, zero tolerance—these words flutter around me like moths to a flame, relentless and impossible to swat away. I had planned to write this column after my return, but these verbal gremlins kept tapping on my skull like a particularly persistent woodpecker, so here we are!

Living in this world is like being a fox in a henhouse of pretension, where every salad leaf is handpicked with the precision of a surgeon, and every oat milk latte is crafted to the tune of vegan hymns. You're either the top dog or the unfortunate flea on the dog's back, trying to make sense of homegrown vs locally sourced, small-batch vs artisan, mindful eating vs gut health fanaticism.

I found myself recently in one of the supermarket aisles—those hallowed halls where zero tolerance policies apply to pesticides, preservatives, and apparently, anyone not armed with a reusable tote bag and an eco-friendly attitude. The air smelled faintly of hemp and smug superiority. I reached for an avocado, a noble fruit, revered as the queen of the superfoods—unless it's wrapped in bacon, in which case, congratulations, you've just committed heresy. (Avocado wrapped in bacon: the ultimate oxymoron for the health conscious—like a wolf in sheep's clothing, only greasier!) The lady next to me eyed my selection as if I'd brought a bear into the garden. "Oh, that's not organic," she said with the sharpness of a hawk circling its prey. "And is it fair trade?!" I wanted to respond, "No, madam, I bought it with a side of existential dread." But I swallowed the retort, not wishing to be the skunk at the garden party.