According to my Instagram, I’m a pro snowboarding, adventure seeking, slim and slender yet fast food eating, high life-styling, stiletto wearing, fashion forward wannabe model. However, despite this alluring facade and string of top notch filters, I’m nothing more than a sweatpants enthusiast who enjoys far too many documentaries, multiple trips to local fast food restaurants, and weaseling my way out of any preplanned gym visit the second my alarm shatters my lucid dreams. And while I apologize to those who are already all too familiar with the reality of my average life and have been roped into my unhealthy eating habits and excessive Netflix enjoyment, I can’t help but offer those who have yet to meet me a bold disclaimer regarding my existence: I am not as cool as my Instagram.
Yes, I’ve experienced and encountered many incredible opportunities, but my vanity and need for validation has completely consumed my social media interactions. While being so engulfed in capturing the perfect image, panorama, and, yes, even selfie, I’ve completely missed out on valuable sights and adventures. Instead of capturing a photo to relish the moment and hold a still piece of evidence that undeniably identifies the once in a lifetime moment when I was given the opportunity to cut my bucket list by one, my main concern continues to be gifting myself with the pristine shot that will please my followers, not myself.
It pains me to say that a decent portion of confirming or planning a trip revolves around the question of whether this opportunity could land me with a decent upload for social media, propelling the facade that veils my mediocre life. There is nothing wrong with mediocrity, as I’ve now accepted.
And while I crave the day that I will genuinely live up to the standards of my social media accounts and expectations that I have instilled in those who I’ve yet to acquaint with, this marks my genuine Instagram confessions.
- My only modeling agency is Instagram. While my inner sass and feisty tendencies may deem my an imaginary height of 5’9″, I can assure you I struggle to clear 5’5″ on even the best days. My duck face game may be strong, but my genes and grace are severely lacking. Maybe in another life!
- For every decent selfie or action shot, 50 unflattering and downright trashy images were hastily deleted! I believe I speak for women everywhere when I boldly confess that selfies and high quality images are truly an art and a strenuous workout. You don’t know pain and frustration until you’ve held and recreated a yoga pose over 20 different times only to impress absolutely nobody with an incredibly awkward photo that perfectly replicates the exorcist on a tropical island. Think you lift, bro? Try taking a series of selfies while desperately trying to hide your sheer frustration because your eye brows won’t cooperate and your entire arm is going completely numb. We all know the photos with the most causal captions are the ones we put our blood, sweat, and tears into. “Just a quick selfie from my morning” should really say “This required a full face of makeup to go absolutely no where and a solid hour of my self-made photoshoot. LIKE IT.”
- I can end my night after I’ve taken or seen a decent photograph of myself or my ‘squad’. I can be in my bed, cozy and warm, by 9 PM or 2 AM depending on this pesky idea of “Pics or it didn’t happen”. It seems that photographs and uploads are needed to validate that you did, in fact, have an adventurous weekend full of cliche hand on hip poses, clanking drinks, and forced laughed. Which leads me to my next, mortifying reveal.
- I have faked a laugh for a photo and I must confess that it makes for perhaps the most awkward photo experience one could fathom. Not only is there absolutely nothing comical ensuing throughout the shot, but all those involved in the photo are uncomfortably attempting to mumble things under their breath such as, “What should we laugh at?” and “Someone tell a joke.” After my experience, I question all of you and your seemingly joyful photographs replicating laughter. You’re all liars, too.
While these mere confessions are nothing more than the tip of the self-loathing iceberg that encapsulates these icy secrets and mortifying experiences, I can confidently admit that I believe many of you have at least considered, if not attempted, some of these on your own.
We have become engulfed in this not so social media and transformed it’s presence into our own personal business. We monitor our followers, unfollowers, likes, and even success rate of our highest producing uploads. “Prime Posting Time” is a genuine time frame ranging for users based on their followers, allowing a certain amount of time to be deemed the most ideal moment for posting in order to ensure success of your boastful post about your lavished lunch that I can guarantee you paid too much for and enjoyed too little.
I am an avid user of social media. I enjoy vicariously living through the moments and videos of those that I follow, admiring their tenacity and possibly their killer bodies and rock hard abs. However, I can’t enjoy what I expect to be your riveting life if the deceiving photos that are being plastered on my feed are nothing more than falsified memories. I, too, am extremely guilty of this act.
I don’t often enjoy sunny weekends on a luxurious yacht, the bottles of wine I claim to drink are incredibly misleading seeing that I have a strict 2 glass limit, I don’t ride camels in my free time, and, finally, I am perhaps the saddest excuse for a fisherman that the online world has ever seen.
The reality is that I’m a snack junkie, I live for mozzarella sticks and Skittles, the only eventful outings I’ve experienced were connected to work or friends who let this overly perky blonde girl tag along, and I’m guilty of getting more than dressed up with absolutely nowhere to go and no one to see. And not only am I content with that image and confession, I vow to accentuate the positive aspects and traits throughout my life that truthfully capture the woman I am.
It’s time to embrace the path that our lives are currently exploring and applaud ourselves for the true accomplishments. Let’s focus on the experience rather than the perfect photograph.