Starbucks, Unicorns, & Broken Dreams 

The face I make when fairy tales suck.

The face I make when fairy tales suck.

The world is a dark and dreary place once more. For a short time, we lived amongst the unicorns and the world was a better place for it — or at least it seemed so in the happy updates I saw from so many of my friends showcasing the pink and blue sugary concoction that was the Unicorn Frappucino

We went out on Saturday as a family — a full day left with the infamous unicorn frappuccino still on the menu. 

Image: Starbucks

The idea was to taste the fairy-tale magic.

To not give a single fuck about the sugar content that has pissed off half of the internet. The barista heard us happily chattering on our way up to the counter. Should we get a tall? A grande? A venti?

Whatever. We work out as a family three to four days a week and eat our five (fruits and veggies) a day. I do a mostly paleo diet; gluten is not allowed in our house (celiac and allergies, thank you very much). Basically, we pay our dues, and with my history of eating disorders and body image issues, this drink was going to be me giving the middle finger to food and sugar shamers by way of reminding myself that assigning labels like "good" and "bad" are harmful to those struggling with bulimia, anorexia, and binge/compulsive eating disorders. 



His mouth was set, and he blinked. Our happy chatter stopped instantly. We waited; I sensed bad news, and I was right.  

"About that unicorn," he started, grimacing. This was news, I felt, he'd had to repeat too many times to count since he'd clocked in. "We are sold out." 

"Oh, okay. We can get something else today. Will you have more tomorrow morning?" I smiled at him, my dreams not yet shattered.  

He cleared his throat. He looked at the ground. He looked at my daughter and me.  

"I'm sorry. We are completely sold out. It's gone. Thanks to whoever leaked the unicorn frappuccino before it was even on the menu," he said, ruefully. "It kinda ruined it for everybody." 

I blinked. My kid crossed her arms over her chest. The Husband, who had not been planning to get one (because he hates unicorns, obviously) looked at us, trying to determine just exactly how pissed off we were both going to be.  

"Out? Like, Gone? Done? Unicorns don't exist anymore, and the world is a horrible and bleak place once again?" 

My voice was shrill. The barista looked uncomfortable. I took pity on him. I used to be a waitress, after all. Don't shoot the messenger. 

"It was crazy. We had people coming through the drive-thru ordering 12 at a time. So, yeah. It's gone." 

He looked genuinely sorry. I looked at my kid. She shrugged.

"I'll just get my usual," she said, matter-of-factly.  

"So will I," I said, proud of myself for Totally Not Losing My Shit.  

The Husband looked relieved. Crisis averted.

We left with our drinks. My daughter and her vanilla bean frappuccino, hold the whip. Me with my caramel frappucino with extra caramel drizzle because Fuck You, You Judgmental Sugar/Food Shamers. (By the way, the caramel frap has more sugar than the unicorn did, and no one's ever bitched about that.) The Husband ordered a coconut coffee concoction.  

As the door closed behind us, we heard the people at the counter getting their dreams crushed.

I wanted to turn back and hug them, to console them in their time of grief, so fresh that there would be no time to process their feelings.

I imagine they ordered their usual, probably crying on the inside as they sipped on what probably tasted like unicorns and broken dreams. 

It's back to reality, Internet. I'll be testing out this Unicorn Frap copy cat recipe here in a few days. (Click here for all the copycat recipes. You'll be busy for weeks.) For now though, this is the face I make when fairy tales suck.

My kid and me sipping on reality because Starbucks was fresh out of fairy-tales.

Maybe I'll console myself with these unicorn-colored gym shoes. Mother's Day is coming up, after all. 

Image via brooks

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