About that Instagram life
For the first time in a while I have successfully resisted the urge to join the newest and sexiest social networking site. This site being Instagram, I guess Pinterest is another one but I just don't think pinterest is really ever going to happen ANYWAY - cue Regina George hair flick, but back to instagram.
Initially I couldn't join instagram even if I had wanted to because it was strictly for the iPhone crew, then they opened their elitist arms to the Android family and told us we could have olden day looking pictures too. Come, join us, they said and I very nearly did.
I went through the ball ache of finding the app and was about to download it but then I really couldn't justify adding another new screen name to my plethora of online aliases because when it comes to online shiznit I am not like other people.
I just can't let go.
I get way too attached to these online displays of me and I get the irrational fear that one day I might want to go back to my facepic or xanga or livejournal or wordpress, or myspace, or blackplanet, or hi5 (and so on) and if I delete it, how will I ever survive? Do I really need to add another website to my list of forgotten once loved places.
Nope.
But aside from instagram being THEE Disneyland destination for narcissists it is also the playground for the voyeurs.
I know that sounds ridiculously creepy but it actually is and while the beautiful upload picture after picture of their beautiful faces and their beautiful surroundings and all of the beautiful friends some of us are there transfixed by the perfection. Looking at certain instagram pictures I get the same feeling I do from watching other ladies on youtube telling me about their everyday foundation routine that takes nearly a century to do (exaggeration). An immediate rush of self-loathing followed by a feeling of awe. I MEAN, DO THESE PEOPLE REALLY EXIST?
Because can a top bun really ever look that fantastic? And how about those eyebrows, can I have ALL of the eyebrows? Also,where is your outfit from? Was it made by angels? REALLY, oh, it's just vintage? Is the Sun your personal personal assistant, do you pay it to make sure the lighting surrounding your baby hairs is just so at all times?
I need answers from these Instagram Princesses. I want to be an Instagram Princess. I want all the likes and all the perfect hair and nails and. all. the. 6 packs.
On the flipside I know that these instagram accounts are not a true reflection on anybodies life. No one uploads a picture of the damp on their ceiling that they haven't gotten round to fixing and no one is taking a picture of their toes when their feets is looking like a tyrannosaurus Rex's baby claw hands. You are getting an edited version of someone else's idea of their perfect life. So with that rationality out of the way will you support me in my mission to become an Instagram Princess?
I already know the basics I need:
(I've taken all the pictures in this post from Google, but if one day the universe decides to be all kismet and one of the girls pictured manages to stumble onto this particular post and decides they don't want their picture on this amazing blog, then let me know, let me knooOooow *Aaliyah voice*)
Initially I couldn't join instagram even if I had wanted to because it was strictly for the iPhone crew, then they opened their elitist arms to the Android family and told us we could have olden day looking pictures too. Come, join us, they said and I very nearly did.
I went through the ball ache of finding the app and was about to download it but then I really couldn't justify adding another new screen name to my plethora of online aliases because when it comes to online shiznit I am not like other people.
I just can't let go.
I get way too attached to these online displays of me and I get the irrational fear that one day I might want to go back to my facepic or xanga or livejournal or wordpress, or myspace, or blackplanet, or hi5 (and so on) and if I delete it, how will I ever survive? Do I really need to add another website to my list of forgotten once loved places.
Nope.
But aside from instagram being THEE Disneyland destination for narcissists it is also the playground for the voyeurs.
I know that sounds ridiculously creepy but it actually is and while the beautiful upload picture after picture of their beautiful faces and their beautiful surroundings and all of the beautiful friends some of us are there transfixed by the perfection. Looking at certain instagram pictures I get the same feeling I do from watching other ladies on youtube telling me about their everyday foundation routine that takes nearly a century to do (exaggeration). An immediate rush of self-loathing followed by a feeling of awe. I MEAN, DO THESE PEOPLE REALLY EXIST?
Because can a top bun really ever look that fantastic? And how about those eyebrows, can I have ALL of the eyebrows? Also,where is your outfit from? Was it made by angels? REALLY, oh, it's just vintage? Is the Sun your personal personal assistant, do you pay it to make sure the lighting surrounding your baby hairs is just so at all times?
I need answers from these Instagram Princesses. I want to be an Instagram Princess. I want all the likes and all the perfect hair and nails and. all. the. 6 packs.
On the flipside I know that these instagram accounts are not a true reflection on anybodies life. No one uploads a picture of the damp on their ceiling that they haven't gotten round to fixing and no one is taking a picture of their toes when their feets is looking like a tyrannosaurus Rex's baby claw hands. You are getting an edited version of someone else's idea of their perfect life. So with that rationality out of the way will you support me in my mission to become an Instagram Princess?
I already know the basics I need:- Perfect Eyebrows
- Perfect Nails
- Perfect Make Up
- Amazing outfit
- Nonchalant picture face
- Food, was made to take pictures of first, eat second.
What else am I missing?
As I embark on my journey to the land of YOLO I'll post pictures of my progress on here in posts titled 'How to be an instagram princess' (because I still can't be bothered to actually join Instagram). On that fateful day when I am asked by the almighty what I have done with my life, I hope this will suffice as an answer.
As I embark on my journey to the land of YOLO I'll post pictures of my progress on here in posts titled 'How to be an instagram princess' (because I still can't be bothered to actually join Instagram). On that fateful day when I am asked by the almighty what I have done with my life, I hope this will suffice as an answer.
Once I have completed this level I may delve even further into this existance and post pictures of me and my spouse during moments of intense passion a la Joe Budden? Who knows, the world is my oyster. (It will never happen)
(I've taken all the pictures in this post from Google, but if one day the universe decides to be all kismet and one of the girls pictured manages to stumble onto this particular post and decides they don't want their picture on this amazing blog, then let me know, let me knooOooow *Aaliyah voice*)
For the first time in a while I have successfully resisted the urge to join the newest and sexiest social networking site. This site being I...
