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Have you ever looked at your house and your car and your family and thought “Wow, I’m so lucky” and then hopped on social media only to realise your husband doesn’t have a 6 pack and you don’t drive a Mercedes and your house is way too small and your kids never smile for photos? I have and I’m not even married with kids. But it doesn’t stop me from cursing my future husband for having a Dad bod when Jessica and Jonathan who live in California and don’t even know I exist keep showing us up with their rigs and their love for kale protein smoothies. Which by the way they have a discount code for so if you just swipe up and make a purchase they’ll have enough money to go back to the Maldives this year. Oh and don’t worry, they’re not selling the protein for money, they genuinely love it and would “drink it every day even if they weren’t getting paid”. Lol. Yeah and I’d drink my own piss if it wasn’t frowned upon. Shut up Jessica.
Even though I joke a lot I do know this isn’t Jessica’s fault, she’s out there taking advantage of the opportunities social media creates for anyone with a phone and internet connection. I genuinely respect the hustle but not every influencer with a discount code deserves our time and attention and money. So why do we keep giving them all three?
There are so many ways in which we’ve been conditioned to compare ourselves to others and it’s gotten worse since Silicone Valley started churning out the technology through which we so easily do it. Personally I’m grateful to know what life was like before smart phones and Instagram and Netflix and every other soul sucking outlet we pour our attention into. I remember making cubby houses out of sheets and a few chairs, writing yes or no on either side of a rubber and allowing fate to take it’s course every time I tossed it in the air, exploring the local park for treasure and playing games with my friends where their little sisters were our slaves. During this period of my life I don’t remember being actively concerned that I wasn’t as pretty as a person I’d never met.
I may have idolised the Spice Girls but if I wanted to see them I had to buy a poster or a magazine or just hope I caught them on TV back in the ‘olden days’ when you had to read the TV guide to know what was airing. Strangers and celebrities were nowhere near as accessible as they are now. The only way to know what was going on in their lives was if they did a tell-all on 60 minutes or got so desperate they gave all their secrets to Woman’s Day which your Mum would bring home from the newsagent (for the crosswords, of course). What I’m trying to say is there was never a consistent Hollywood-esque presence in my life to steer me away from the real world. The only people I could easily compare myself to were the ones directly around me and on the occasions that I did, I was mostly jealous of the epic food their Mums had packed for lunch. Dunkaroos anyone?
I guess I’m writing this as a reminder to myself and to you that one should be weary of worshipping false idols, no matter who or what they are. The idea that any stranger or influencer or celebrity on the internet is better than any of us is an illusion. Everything Kim Kardashian posts is edited, curated and backed by a PR machine dedicated to ensuring you want more of everything she’s selling. And by PR machine I mean Kris Jenner with her 10% share and her “you’re doing great sweetie” catch phrase. You only have to scan the dancefloor of a club to see that half the girls look like a weird and less hot version of Kimberley (come on, we all know it’s true). There are long haired, big boobed, small waisted, big ass having girls everywhere and I’d bet you a lifetime supply of Maxibons that 50% of them paid for everything they tell you is God given. If that doesn’t show you the power of publicity, I don’t know what will.
It appears to me that social media amongst other things has warped our expectations of life and ourselves and what it means to create meaningful connections. Good is no longer good enough. We want perfect. We strive for it and if our friendships or relationships or holidays or clothes or tits or lips or hair or bodies don’t meet those expectations, we’re miserable. We then take that misery and use it to fuel our Afterpay debts in the pursuit of more. More clothes, more shoes, a nicer car or bigger and better celebrity style holidays that we just can’t afford. I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with nice vacations and beautiful clothes, I love all of those things. But I don’t have any debt because of them and I’m learning not to place how I value myself within the limitations of what I can or can’t afford to buy, no matter how many celebrities are spruiking the next best thing.
When my sister and I were obsessed with the Spice Girls, our Mum would tell us to get on the blower and call them up for money or advice or any of the things that we needed and see how we fared. What she didn’t know is that I had already looked Scary Spice up in the White Pages hoping she’d come to my birthday party, she wasn’t in there. I even looked under Mel B just in case. It would annoy me back then but now more than ever I can see the point Mum was trying to make and I know she was right (which if she’s reading this, I’ll vehemently deny). What’s scary about the younger generation is the digital age has encouraged them to be even more obsessed with strangers (and themselves) on the internet and in doing so, they’ve become heavily reliant on the opinions of others to get by. When they’ve spent their last dollar on Jessica’s discounted fat loss protein and Rihanna’s latest collab with Puma, what next?
I don’t have the answer to that but what I do know is this - when Cady Haron wears army pants and flip flops, I no longer feel an inclination to do the same.
With love, always
J
