You’re straight chillin’. Got your comfies on, one hand checking out what’s on Netflix, the other hand in a bag of cheesy puffs. Suh-weeeeet! Then your Netflix hand moves to your phone. Oh no. Stop. You’re opening Instagram. There’s still time to stop. Aaand you’re scrolling. Shit.
Just three minutes ago, that girl you worked a few shifts with at your old part time retail job posted a picture of herself looking F-I-E-R-C-E. Like, Beyonce riding a tiger fierce. Beyonce riding a tiger through fire and smoke fierce. Ok so, she’s in Walkabout, but she still looks amazing and she’s CLEARLY having the time of her life. Oh god, a few scrolls down there’s a bedazzled left hand. Engagement. *scroll scroll* photo of house keys *scroll* Bali beach *scroll scroll* perfect mani. Your eyes drift from your screen and fall on your cheese puff dusted lap. Fuck.
[Oh, just me, on an Australian island, sipping a cocktail]
Here you are again, wasting away in your hovel whilst everyone else in the entire world is living a fantastic, dreamy, per-fucking-fect life. They’re immaculately turned out – on fleek eyebrows, Kardashian contouring, Elle-styled outfits. To top it off, them and their stupid eyebrows are living it up having the bestest time ever in swanky bars that have personal infinity pools and Swarovski encrusted parrots. Or something.
Except, they’re just flaunting the bits of their lives that they think will make other people get all jelly. They’re probs not going to bother Instagramming their hairy legs or their blocked toilet. They might take a selfie with the hot plumber though, leaving some mysterious emojis as the caption so you’ll never know why he’s really there. It’s really easy to compare yourself to these people and get ridiculous envy. I’ve sure as hell done it. Then I remembered, I’ve been on the other side of it too.
[Amy in Oz-land]
Real talk. Two years ago I was travelling Australia. I instagrammed to my heart’s content. But I didn’t want to make people jealous, right? Uh, yeah. I did actually. I wanted people to see what awesome stuff I was seeing and doing and seethe to themselves that they weren’t little ol’ me. What I can’t tell you is why I wanted people to feel jealous. In real life, I’d never want someone to think I was trying to show off so why was it ok to do it on IG? Answers on a postcard please, because I still have zero idea.
What I didn’t IG was the disgusting hostels I stayed in. The buckets of sweat I collected in my own armpits in Cairns. How terribly homesick I was on Christmas day. How much fast food I ate. All the flies on Manly beach making it impossible to relax (or take that perf selfie). The terrible room I rented then bailed on, losing a ton of money in the process. Ain’t no filter gonna change that.
So just bear in mind you’re only ever going to see people’s highlight reels on their Instagram, so don’t compare it to your outtakes. Now, put down your phone, put something carb heavy in your mouth, get knee deep in some Gilmore Girls and enjoy.