An Open Letter to Those Who Stigmatize My Pumpkin Spice Love

This is a letter for the boy in my MCOM class who cringed when he saw dozens of mini ‘kins spill out of my backpack. This is a letter to the Loyola Starbucks manager who had the gall to tell me that I had gored his PSL inventory.  Most of all it’s for the ex who told me he was leaving because “I could never love any human person as much as I love that goddamn pumpkin spice,” because finally, I’m ready to admit that he was right.

 

I’ve loved pumpkins ever since I can remember.  My parents started noticing my love was more extreme than most the first time they caught me trying to dye myself orange so I could “leave the human world behind.” I was six years old, and I still don’t get why they didn’t think that was adorable. When pumpkin spice came into my life, a new world opened up more beautiful and nutmeggy than I could have ever imagined.

 

Some people’s hearts are pump-in’ blood, mine is pump-kin blood. I think the seasonal gourds are cute, fun, wholesome, sexy. Yeah I said it; I’m attracted to pumpkins. They turn me on. What the fuck are you going to do about it?

 

Of course, nothing hits me harder than the end of pumpkin season.  Nothing.  When my barista tells me they’re out of Pumpkin Spice? Forget it. I do not move from my room.  I can’t.   So no, I don’t appreciate your comments about the beginning of winter.  I GET IT, CHRISTMAS IS COMING, AND NO MR BARISTA, I DON’T WANT A FUCKING PEPPERMINT MOCHA. YOU KNOW WHAT I WANT FOR CHRISTMAS? ONE MORE SIP FROM EACH OF THE 1,734 CUPS OF PSL I HAVE HAD THIS YEAR THAT ARE CURRENTLY IN MY CLOSET BUT DON’T TELL MY ROOMMATE.

 

I’ll admit it can be hard sometimes, like when my peers try to tell me “All lattes matter.” Or when my professor says that my IV of that sweet spiced good good is “leaking and creating a sticky mess.” Or when my boss says that handing out homemade pamphlets about the virtues of pumpkin spice while adorned in mini pumpkins is “unprofessional.” But if you think I’ll stop petitioning Starbucks to create a new size called Pumpké that is a jumbo pumpkin filled with PSL and served in a rustic wagon, or lighting a pumpkin spiced candle everywhere I go, or proclaiming my pumpkin spiced love to the WHOLE PUMPKIN WORLD then you are DEAD WRONG.

PSL


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