If You Can’t Handle Me At My Hot Water And Turmeric, You Don’t Deserve Me At My Pink Himalayan Salt

Let’s get one thing straight; my body is my temple.

If you’re dating me, that’s means you’re dating my temple too. Or more like you’re a visitor to my temple, like you have a year round Disney Parks pass, but like, my Disney Park is super spiritual.

And if you play your cards right, you may get to full-time excavator status. But don’t put on your Pirates of the Caribbean hat just yet. You need to understand one basic personal mantra of mine, and that is:

If you can’t handle me at my hot water and turmeric,

you don’t deserve me at my pink Himalayan salt.

I’m speaking metaphorically obviously - or am I? The hot water and turmeric I drink every morning is representative of my daily life-affirming intentions and proactive-balanced life grind, which you better not get in the fucking way of.

But also, the smell in the kitchen and yellow residue all over my teeth and tongue are very real. But smelling like curry in the morning shouldn’t be a turn-off if you really, seriously, are truly in love with me and my spirit. And if you can’t handle that, then hit the bricks, Andrew.

As for my pink Himalayan salt - bath soaks, lamps, dildo, and stock shares - they are quintessential to me. And that is very, very real. It is my balance, my vitality, my abundance and investment in a spiritually awakened and fucking stellar future.

If I were a chakra, I would be pink Himalayan salt. My pink Himalayan salt vibes could lower your blood pressure, increase your metabolism, improve circulation, and create bone strength, the kind of circulation and bone strength that you could totally use (according to what your ex told me).

You don’t just get a free pass to that (even if you’re in a wheelchair)!

Because this isn’t Disneyland! You can’t bask in and share my brilliant and perfect life experience if you can’t get over the fact that the turmeric smell won’t leave your apartment. Ever. Because I am perfect just the way I am. And you? You’re just a speck, floating through the universe, that most likely takes forever to text someone back anyway.

Written by Venessa Peruda.