Step Into My Shoes..

When I first joined Instagram about 5 years ago, I had felt like I had joined the party too late. Everyone I knew had an account. After a few months though, I realized that I was the only one really enjoying the party. Most people didn't even open their page, much less post anything. I then had to turn to people who I didn't know, who were actually using the app in full swing. I miss the frivolity with which I could post anything, anytime, without the care, without the judgement. What followers and following I had, I had inherited from Twitter and they would be the last to judge me for the frequency with which I posted. The food I ate, the birds I saw, the drops of water, the screenshots of my tweet, random quote-y picture from the Internet, anything interesting I stumbled upon. I didn't care for the likes, the follows. Swipe a few times, the filters seemed to make my pictures better; apply that Lo-Fi border and the post became absolutely gorgeous. Everything was beau...

Yesterday I had an epiphany. It involves my looks. It involves your looks. It involves how we all look like. First, background story. My mom once told me that I look good in my pictures. She let it hang there. She didn't have to mention "...as opposed to in real life" after the statement for me to know what it meant. To look at the positive side, it means I am photogenic. And to look at the negative side, it means that my pictures are clearly deceiving and if you've seen only my pictures you'll be left disappointed when you meet me irl. To look at the darker side, my mom, who's supposed to love me for what I am, still feels I'm uglier outside of my pictures, to put it blandly. O-kay. It is no news that almost everyone who's got even an ounce of vanity in them wants to take great pictures of themselves. And why not. I've only heard of one exception where this girl from YouTube talked about how she puts not-so-good pictures in her Tinde...