Some days, the kitchen closes, and the real feast begins — not with plates or pans, but with confidence, sass, and a wink. Today is one of those days. The apron is hung, the stove is cold, and the only thing heating up the room is me. Kitchen closed, darling. I’m the only snack today. 😉
You see, there’s a certain magic in knowing your worth. In owning your glow, strut, and sparkle without apologizing for it. It’s about recognizing that sometimes, you don’t need a five-course meal, a Michelin star experience, or even a quick takeout order to satisfy the craving for something delicious. Sometimes, all you need is a mirror, a good outfit, and a reminder that you are, and have always been, enough — more than enough. You are the full meal and the dessert.
We spend so much time preparing things for others — meals, plans, conversations, compromises. We stand over hot stoves, stir simmering sauces, bake elaborate cakes, hoping someone will say, “Wow, you did amazing.” But not today. Today, the oven’s off, the pots are clean, and all that energy is redirected where it’s long overdue: inward.
Picture it: no clanging dishes, no timers going off. Instead, there’s music playing — maybe something with a little bass, something that makes you roll your shoulders and tap your toes. You glance at your reflection, smirk, and think, Oh yeah, we’re doing this.
Today’s vibe is unapologetic. It’s highlighter that catches the light just right. It’s the outfit that hugs every curve or flows like poetry, depending on the mood. It’s the perfume you spray a little more generously because, why not? It’s strutting into your living room like it’s a runway. It’s the kind of energy that doesn’t wait for validation because it radiates from within.
When we say “Kitchen closed,” it’s not just about skipping dinner. It’s about setting a boundary. It’s about declaring: today, my energy is mine. Today, I’m not cooking up solutions for everyone else’s problems. Today, I am not serving up pieces of myself to satisfy others’ expectations. Today, if you’re hungry for my time, my attention, my love — you better come correct, because this snack is a luxury item, not a free sample.
And let’s be clear — being the snack isn’t just about appearances. It’s not just makeup and selfies and good lighting (although, let’s be honest, those don’t hurt). Being the snack is an attitude. It’s a mood. It’s laughing a little too loudly at your own jokes. It’s knowing you bring flavor to every room you enter. It’s savoring your own company, not rushing to fill the silence with noise. It’s feeling your own worth so deeply that others can’t help but notice it too.
Of course, the world might not always understand this version of you. Some people expect the kitchen to always be open. They expect the endless giving, the constant availability, the tireless nurturing. They expect you to show up with a platter of your energy, saying, “Here, take as much as you like.” And when you don’t, when you dare to say, “Kitchen’s closed,” they might get confused, or even upset.
That’s okay. Let them. Their confusion is not your burden to carry. Their hunger is not your emergency. You spent too long being everyone else’s chef, caretaker, and emotional caterer. Today, you serve you first. And maybe tomorrow, too.
Imagine if we all treated ourselves like this more often — not just once in a blue moon, but regularly. Imagine normalizing the idea that you can be the snack, the whole meal, without needing anyone else to validate it. That you don’t owe the world your constant service. That sometimes, you are the event. You are the experience. You are the indulgence.
So, tonight, when someone asks, “What’s for dinner?” you can wink and say, “Me, baby. I’m the menu.” Whether you’re curled up with a good book, dancing in your socks across the kitchen floor, or simply enjoying the peace of your own company, know this: there is nothing missing from you. You’re not a half-empty plate waiting for someone else to fill it. You are already overflowing with flavor, richness, sweetness, spice — everything needed to satisfy the soul.
Kitchen closed? Absolutely. But the feast continues — within you, around you, because of you.
And trust me, you’re the best thing anyone could ever taste. 😉
