As hip of a Gen-Yer who I’m suppose to represent, I must confess, I’m a bit behind the times when it comes to social media. Case in point. I only signed up for Instagram the other week! I know. Before you berate me for arriving (fashionably) late to the party, it was like a ‘coming of age’ moment that I had to think long and hard about. The little Miss Pansy (rational) voice inside my head who prefers to sip on earl grey tea, nibble on cucumber sandwiches all whilst contemplating her flower arrangement, was telling me, correction, ordering me, not to do it. Was I really about to sell my soul to the chains of yet another social media stream all over again? I mean, come on. Facebook already takes up half my waking hours. I’ve disowned my Pinterest wall on account of needing a replacement keyboard after I drooled too much over the old one. And my Twitter feed? Let’s just say, thank goodness for certain auto-plugins! Did I really need another ‘thing’ to distract me?
Alas, the I-don’t-want-to-miss-out-on-anything syndrome got the better of me. The moment I signed up, not only was I shutting the door on little Miss Pansy, it felt like the little innocent 8 year old girl inside of me just died.
I imagine little Miss Pansy just sitting there in shrills of laughter watching me on my mobile as I gasp in horror at what my poor little (and obviously naive) eyes were being exposed to. Here I was, thinking I was all hip and in with the modern lingo and down with what’s going on across the interweb *cough cough*. Clearly not.
I find myself scrolling through this cascading dribble of selfies that magically found their way onto my feed with tags such as #fitspo #selfie #cleaneating #hotstuff #abs #lookatme. I actually don’t get it. It’s like an incessant pursuit of something that I don’t even think these lads and lasses can even put their finger on. They are training for a day that will never come. Cleansing themselves of themselves. Striving for #sixpackabs #hotlegs #clearskin #perfectandfluidfunctioningbowels. Reaching for some lofty image of perfection. The best (and worst) part about it all is that they have no shame in sharing every glossy detail with the global public. Youtube, you don’t get off easy here either. You are terrible for encouraging this kind of behaviour. But my pickle at this moment in time is with the Instagram thing.
It didn’t take long for me to suddenly feel a bubble of something funky growing in ma-belly. No, it wasn’t gas. It was something really uncomfortable and something I hadn’t felt for a very long time. Like a bubble of discontentment. I knew these images were subconsciously affecting me, and not for the good. The dark side of social media was making itself clear to me. I had to turn my phone off. I pledged then and there that I wouldn’t allow such photos to spam my feed anymore.
Don’t get me wrong. I’m all for social media. It’s been a saving grace for me in keeping connected to my besties from all around the globe (and for my Dad to post unrelated comments on my travel photos about the progress of his garden at home). Obviously, it’s also the new way to do business. You have to be ‘on’, in order to be seen. I also love that we can freely share our pictures of food, exchange recipes and workout ideas and encourage each other to live healthfully. Instagram is a great platform for this.
Let me be frank though folks. I do feel like a shiny brass knob taking photos of my food, especially when I’m at home alone and have my ass plonked in front of the couch watching Big Brother (guilty as charged, bloody prime time TV). Just as I’m about to devour/inhale my food like a famished raccoon scuffling through a trashcan, a thought strikes me, “I should really take a picture of this.” No Emily, no you shouldn’t. I know my food tastes good. It may not always look pretty, but I really don’t care if people approve of it or not. I really don’t. Sure, the pile of green slop may look like regurgitated grass trimmings amongst pieces of brown unidentified objects, but I like the taste of it and it’s no one else’s beeswax. Similarly, if I want to rip into a lamb shank with my canines like the grotesque beast that I am and then wipe my greasy hands all over my pants, let that be my business and only my business and I’m definitely not going to show the world a picture of that. Will I continue to post pictures of my food on instagram. Maybe. I know. I’m a walking contradiction sometimes. At least I admit it.
But what goes through ones head when they look in the mirror in their bare undies (if that!) and get the sudden urge to take a photo and spread the selfie love to their entourage of following peeps with the tag #lovemynewgymgear. Yeah right. Any excuse will do in this world. Do they even think twice about this? I mean, I have inner conflicts of guilt, questioning whether the world really wants to admire my little pot plant sprouts, every time I dare to post a picture.
Does having a killer body, and I mean, those abs could stop a semi-trailer in its tracks if they collided, warrant plastering them all over the web for other mere mortals to froth/vomit/ridicule over? You are purposely subjecting yourself to public scrutiny. Then again, I suppose the temptation for some stranger’s appraisal is far more enticing (???).
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he message “strong is the new skinny” gets thrown about amongst all this as well. To this, I disagree. Ripped skinny is the new skinny. It’s a message that is still clouding what I’m sure is meant to be the intent of the original message; that being fit and healthy is more important than striving for a size 0. I definitely agree with this intent but I don’t think one should imply that ‘skinny’, or even ‘strong’, is something we should be placing on a pedestal. All it’s doing is simply creating a new ideal and a different kind of stigma that one must adhere to in order to be considered sexy and accepted. I can tell you this, strong is not the new skinny. Strength cannot be judged based on the definition of ones abs. You can be sexy with or without this ideal of ‘strength’. Simarly, you can be happy and successful with or without abs. I have a yoga teacher who doesn’t fit into this stereotype and boy, can he twist and throw his body about like it’s an elastic band. He’d put the best of yogis to the test. It’s another case of image being used to convey a twisted message that leaves everyone looking around like confused lost puppies. Poor puppies.
We get it. You’re a fitness junkie or a healthy foodie or ‘insert other hobby’ and you just want to share it with the world. We all want to be noticed after all. We all feel like we have something of worth to say. Like duh, isn’t that what I’m doing here? Again, my pickle isn’t with you.
What I don’t stand for is the self-glorification and narcissism that is flooding social media. What I don’t get is that we’re becoming a social media fueled society so focused on external gratification, likes, and applause, that we lose sense of the beauty in self-satisfaction. OMG, how dare I only get 50 likes on that picture? How dare she post another picture of her abs and put me to shame! Day-mn, he has hot biceps. Why can’t I look that great shirtless?
But when people self-fornicate over themselves with all those bloody fitspo and selfie pics, I need to draw a line somewhere. That line may be different for you. That’s ok. But for me, I don’t want pictures of 15 year old girls with their ribby adolescent abs spamming my feed. When you see comments like, “I want your abs. You’re such an inspiration” as one continues to rave on about her OCD like workouts of 1000 sit ups a day in between homework sessions, I have to call it a day. So no thank you.
I really feel sorry for this generation of kids growing up in this virtual world where social media is their social outing for the day. I mean, teenage life is hard enough without a constant reminder from peers (some whom are years beyond you in age and maturity, both emotionally and mentally) that there’s something wrong with you because you don’t line up with the all-hail-the-virgin-mary approach to living life in a certain way that floods the trending feed. Sure, these pressures have always existed in some way, shape or form, but you can’t argue that social media doesn’t amplify this effect. Get what I’m saying here?
Some call it ‘inspiration’. Confidence building. Self-promotion. Sure, whatever. But we can’t ignore the dark side. The side that people don’t like to talk about. The infliction of guilt. The shame. The dissatisfaction with oneself. The body hate. The feeling of unworthiness. Social Media depression is real people and it’s not just among teenagers. People of all ages are being affected.
So take note, some of these pictures you see are grossly misleading. They are telling us what life should look like according to some mystical, invincible being called ‘society’. In an age of social media, we live filtered lives. Everyone wants to exude the glossy, shiny, Hollywood life in order to overshadow the dirt and grim that is life as we know it. I’m not saying to walk around like Oscar the grouch being a pessamistic troll. What I’m saying is to be aware that everyone has pain and suffering. No one is perfect. So don’t put anyone or anything on a pedestal. We all hide the real stuff. We deny in order to shield our egos. To hide the secrets. To protect our pride. To shadow the guilt. To disillusion yourself into believing that you’re doing the right thing when in fact, your body is crying out for love, for rest, for food, for spiritual connection, for meaning, for whatever you are denying it.
I just want people to be honest with themselves like I was to myself some time ago. When I looked at myself in the mirror and sized up that my life was not heading in the direction I wanted it to go. When I saw that delusion and denial were causing me internal suffering that was completely self-inflicted and unnecessary, regardless if people could see it from the outside or not. Regardless of my abs, regardless of what I had eaten that day, regardless of the size of the gap between my thighs, regardless of how many likes my photo received.
I admit, I’ve been known to joke about some of this myself and use some heavy handed adjectives. On the flip side, I’ve also caught myself out on many occasions preaching certain mantras. Whilst we’re not here to please every Dick and Sally, as that’s plain ludicrous and will drive us to insanity, we do need to take responsibility and be conscious of how our words, and our pictures, affect those around us. We also need to take into account the responsibility we have to sustain our own bodies, souls and minds (that means mental health people) in a healthy manner in order to carry out the work that needs to be done on this planet. To keep ourselves in check so we can fulfill our true purpose on earth; to answer to our real callings.
In saying all this, we can’t control the internet or social media. It’s a free world. We can’t hate on others. That’s not doing anyone favours. They can do what they like and as can we. So the onus is on us. We are in control of our own lives. The responsibility lies on us to surround ourselves with people and things that build up our lives. If such things are negatively influencing you, you need to turn them off. I don’t see these things as inspiration in my mind. They don’t have a part to play in the sustainable lifestyle that I want to build up for myself. Call me a prude, go ahead. But that’s me! In the age where social media rules and if you’ve not ‘on’ you’re ‘off’, these things are unavoidable at best, but self-defeating at worse.
Keep yourself in check. Ask yourself the hard questions. Does this build me up, or is this tearing me down? Only you know the truth. Give yourself some space to think this through. At the end of the day, when no one else is around, it’s you who you have to be comfortable living with. Allow yourself to breathe. Distance yourself from the need to receive external applause. Be generous and give yourself your own applause. You’re worthy of cheering on and you don’t need anyone else following you or doing it for you.
While you’re at it, why not come follow me on Instagram… not to worry, no buff bods or thigh gaps to be seen here. Just simple real food, pot plants, green living inspo and lots of travel envy!
Feel free to pin my posts but do not repost in full on any other website. That’s just not cool bro.
