I consider myself to be predominately a visual person, this
can be backed up by the hours I spend trawling through Instagram. My boyfriend particularly
hates how I sit scrolling whilst I’m meant to be concentrating on the latest
episode of Taboo. I have to remind him time and time again how fucking ace I am
at multitasking. He just about manages to squeeze out a shit at the same time
as watching Connor McGregor smash another idiot’s face in on his phone.
I mainly enjoy using Instagram to look at aesthetically
pleasing photos; gain inspiration on how to style a particular item of
clothing; drool over burgers and laugh at cats and sausage dogs. However, I don’t
like what it can do to a bunch of confident, beautiful and successful people.
Inspired by my girls WhatsApp group to write this – these
are some of the most beautiful women I know, inside and out (I know, I hate that
cliché shit too) complaining about their bodies, comparing themselves to the
lives of the rich and famous or the next round of reality TV wannabes whose
real lives are permanently filtered in ‘Black & White’ or ‘Slumber’. Their
tans and white teeth sponsored and paid for by companies giving away their
products for free. Nowadays, an appearance on Love Island will guarantee a
clothing line with an online clothing retailer or a personal instructor and a
sponsorship with the latest fad detox tea/pills/bar. All that is required of
the participant is good bone structure and the ability to use the word ‘mug’ or
any derivative, in a sentence. This makes it near impossible for them to not go
on to become this ‘better’ version of themselves.
Unfortunately, the majority of young people are conditioned
to conform to this Instagram idealistic version of life of buying a house at
28; getting married at 30 with babies soon to follow with it all lit in the
perfect lighting. I too am guilty of Facetuning the shit out of the rank
magnolia bathroom walls in my outfit photos and I understand the art of
photography and after effects, but what I HATE is when my beautiful friends
compare themselves to this unrealistic version of life.
In the past couple of years, I’ve really started to not give
a shit about how I fit into the glossy world of ‘fit’ and ‘normal’. Obviously
there are days when I wake up with a monster of a spot on my chin, or when my
under-eyes are so prevalent that I don’t need to take a tote bag with me to
avoid the 5p government charge to carry my groceries home in that evening. However,
I do love some things about myself. I especially love that no matter how many
burgers I eat, I have managed to stay at a ‘normal’ size 12.
Anyway, the point I’m trying to make is that everyone should
definitely take time to appreciate all the hard work that someone has put in to
make a particular post look beautiful, but should also be able to see through
all the bullshit filters, editing and the amount of tries it took to get there.
LOVE YOURSELF PEOPLE!
Peace out x
No comments