It started, as most terrible ideas do, with a New Year’s Resolution.

We are twelve days into January. By now, most people have already abandoned their gym memberships and rediscovered the joy of eating cheese over a sink at midnight. I, however, decided to hold on a little longer. I fell for the “New Year, New Bear” trap.

I was scrolling through the internet during a moment of profound weakness. The algorithm, which clearly knows I am made of 40% donuts and 60% regret, decided to target me. It suggested that my sluggishness wasn’t just my natural personality. It claimed I lacked “micronutrients.” It told me I needed to “drink my greens.”

I am a bear. In the wild, if I want to eat greens, I eat a berry that happens to be near a leaf. That is the extent of my relationship with foliage. But the internet was persuasive. I bought a bag of kale that smelled like sadness and a blender that looked like it could launch a satellite.

The Sound of Violence

First of all, nobody warns you about the noise.

Making a smoothie is not a peaceful morning ritual. It is an act of sonic warfare. I pressed the “Pulse” button and immediately regretted every decision I have ever made. For forty-five seconds, it sounded like a jet engine was fighting a bag of gravel inside my kitchen.

I was fully awake now. But I wasn’t awake because of the vitamins. I was awake because my fight-or-flight response had been activated by the mechanical screaming on my counter.

The Taste Test

The result was a glass of thick, swamp-colored sludge. The recipe called it the “Green Goddess.” I call it “Liquid Lawn Clippings.”

I took a sip.

It had the texture of wet sand. It tasted distinctly like dirt, with a subtle aftertaste of punishment. I genuinely do not understand how humans do this. You have invented donuts. You have invented pancakes. You have access to bread that is warm and soft. Why are you voluntarily drinking pulverized spinach?

It didn’t make me feel energized. It made me feel like a cow that had lost its way.

The Cleanup

Here is the part the influencers don’t show you. You have to clean the blender.

The blade at the bottom is designed to slice your fingers if you even look at it wrong. The green sludge dries into a cement-like substance within seconds. I spent ten minutes scrubbing the container. This burned more calories than I have burned in the last three years.

The Verdict

I am officially retiring from my New Year’s Resolution. I poured the rest of the Green Goddess down the sink. I apologized to the drain pipes for the inconvenience.

Then I ate a bagel.

If you need me, I will be recovering from this vitamin overdose in a dark room. Please do not send kale. My resolution for the rest of the year is simply to survive until December without drinking any more grass.