The Beige Emptiness of Hailey Bieber's Plate

There’s a particular shade of beige that’s been haunting me. It’s not the warm, comforting beige of a well-worn cashmere sweater, nor the earthy, grounding beige of a clay pot. No, this beige is different. It’s the beige of influencer-approved, aspirational emptiness. The beige of a carefully curated life devoid of any real sustenance. The beige, dare I say, of Hailey Bieber’s dinner plate.

We’ve all seen the pictures. The gleaming white kitchen, the impossibly perfect lighting, and then, there it is: a plate piled high with… beige. Bone broth, perhaps. Or maybe cauliflower rice. Whatever it is, it’s guaranteed to be gluten-free, dairy-free, and joy-free. It’s food as a lifestyle choice, a carefully constructed image of health and wellness that feels strangely hollow.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for healthy eating. I’ve been known to whip up a mean green smoothie in my time. But there’s something about this particular brand of dietary piety that rubs me the wrong way. It’s the lack of any visible pleasure, the sense that food is something to be endured rather than enjoyed. It’s the implicit judgment, the unspoken message that if your plate isn’t overflowing with beige blandness, you’re somehow doing it wrong.

I remember a time when food was more than just fuel. I think about my grandmother’s kitchen, the air thick with the scent of garlic and onions sizzling in olive oil. Her pasta sauce, simmering on the stove for hours, was a labor of love, a testament to the power of food to nourish not just the body but the soul. There was laughter, there was conversation, there was the comforting clatter of forks against plates. It was messy, it was chaotic, it was alive.

And then there’s Hailey, perched on her pristine white stool, a single, perfectly manicured hand delicately holding a forkful of… beige. It’s all so staged, so calculated, so utterly devoid of any real human connection. It’s the food equivalent of an Instagram filter, designed to present a picture-perfect version of reality that’s about as authentic as a spray tan.

This isn’t just about food, of course. It’s about the way we present ourselves to the world, the carefully curated images we project on social media. It’s about the pressure to conform to a certain ideal, even if that ideal leaves us feeling empty and unfulfilled. It’s about the fear of being judged, of not measuring up to the impossible standards set by others.

But here’s the thing: life is messy. It’s unpredictable. It’s full of flavor, of color, of texture. It’s about indulging in that extra slice of pizza, about licking the batter from the bowl, about sharing a meal with loved ones and laughing until your sides hurt. It’s about embracing the imperfections, the spills, the crumbs, the moments that make us feel truly alive.

So let Hailey have her beige plate. Let her have her perfectly curated life. Me? I’ll be over here, savoring every last bite of my messy, imperfect, utterly delicious reality.

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