Joy is happier than the Wiggles on an ecstasy bender. The Color Run 2015 is a perfect opportunity to publicise her herba-lifestyle and isagenetic perfection to her toey followers. Her happy-revolution will be televised, and all you miserable Sunday drunks could learn a thing or two from this bonafide namaste-warrior.
It’s 7:30am, and Joy’s yoghurty breakfast is going mushy as she picks the best filter to highlight the Goji berries. A breakfast so wholesome it makes a non-drinker’s board game night seem like a depraved fuckfest. She uploads the pic, “the cornerstone to a happy day is a happy meal #bodyisatemple #happiest5k #colorrun2015 #happy #zen #weshine #goji #nutritioniskey #herbalife”.
Joy took so long to Instagram her breakfast that she doesn’t have time to lay out her running shit in an artistic manner and take a photo. There is a 24-like hole in her heart, but she continues to beam her over-the-top grin as she rocks up at Langley Park. She spots her friends and runs over like a red-rocketed dog to start dry-humping the joyfulness of the situation. The girls scream and carry on in a scene reminiscent of a Zoolander-esque freak gasoline fight. Joy takes the clean “before” selfie, paying special attention to the brand-placement of her Lululemon tights and Nike sneakers.
The moment Joy has been dreading has now approached. She must endure 5km of phoneless agony. The separation anxiety is enough to kill her, but she can’t risk the dye getting on her beloved iPhone. She takes a deep breath and prepares to live life to the fucking max. She winces every time another fitness-hoe throws coloured dye all over her on-fleek outfit. She is torn between a vain-rock and a consumeristic hard place. She wants to look as cute as possible for her selfies, but fuck, she paid $100 for those tights!
She crosses the finishing line looking like she copped a fabulous facial after sucking off Mardi Gras. Her body yearns for hydration, but her ego demands the double tap of insta-validation. It is imperative that she upload the colourful “after” selfie before anyone else in her social circle, “happiness got us through #happiest5k #positivethinking #behappy #peace #yoga #hopethiswashesout #lululemon #enjoyyahangover #instafit #weshine #sickbish #lifecoach #lifebeinit”.
Joy prances into her house and shoots a judgmental stare at her hung-housemate who is gripping a Powerade and sucking for the teat of hydration. She whimsically floats into the laundry and then frowns vehemently as she rage-scrubs her expensive fitness clobber in her sink. She only netted a measly 157 insta-likes for the day and in no way does that justify the destruction of the tights that her creatine’d cocked boot camp instructor reckons are cute.
True happiness doesn’t need a hashtag.
Documenting the Human Zoo is thirsty work, so if you enjoyed what you read how about buying Belle a beer, ay?