72. I'll never be Hailey Bieber.

And I probably won't ever be on a PR list but today I decide to let go and just be me.

How 72. started:

Today I feel like I need to do a big brain dump, I know that it will help me and maybe even help someone who reads this. Today I feel inspired to jumble everything together. Without rhyme or reason.

I’ve been feeling ugly for the past two days, I’ve just been in one of those moods where I don’t feel like I look myself (maybe this will resonate more with women?). It’s that point in my cycle where I feel ugly, bloated, I have a spot, my hair is not falling as it should, no clothes represent how I want to feel and look (even though they’re my same favourite outfits)… Nothing is clicking as it should, but I’m learning to flow through these rough seas and I’m getting better at letting go and thinking that I’m cute anyway UNTIL I open Instagram and see Hailey Bieber’s latest post. Her perfect glowy skin, her soft non-chapped lips covered in a, probably, very expensive lip balm, her new bob haircut, her perfect skin and then I start to think that “I’ll never be like her”… but today I decided that I don’t give a shit.

Yep.

I don’t give a shit because I’m learning and I’m gathering information which is helping my brain to be more realistic and, how can I say it, harsh? Yes, we’ll go with harsh.

We, or at least I, feel like I need to start being harsher towards these intrusive thoughts because:

1. I’m not Hailey Bieber.
2. I’m not a model whose career somewhat depends on my body.
3. I’m not a celebrity.
4. I’m not on anyone’s PR list.
5. I don’t have a clothes, hair and make up stylist.

As I scroll on Instagram I see so many beautiful, cool, trendy and inspiring women but I forget that I’m Emily. Reality becomes a blur and I start to get these feelings inside that I “should” be what I’m seeing online too. Because that’s what I like to look at, that’s what I’d love to dress like, that’s what I’d love to see when I look in the mirror. Then I can detach from my body, I start to stare at the screen, my mind wanders and I only think of what’s on my phone screen until it ends. Then, I’m hit with reality and I’m now looking at my own body instead of this perfect human being on my phone.

Am I any less because I have a spot on my chin this week? Am I suddenly not cool because I’m not dressed in Arc’teryx gear from head to toe? Am I not a good enough coffee lover because I don’t have a Sage Barista Pro in my kitchen? But my mugs aren’t aesthetic enough either, and my latte art didn’t turn out perfectly today either. I’m doomed. My bed isn’t made and the sheets aren’t pure white, freshly ironed and perfectly yet messily placed in the background for a photo of the sun shining right on the bed as I lay there reading with my perfect coffee… breathe.

I know that Instagram is a curated version of our lives, I know that we show our best version on the app and I know that Hailey Bieber has a stylist and she owns a bloody skin care brand. I know that Emma Chamberlain is rich AF that can ship her suitcase via DHL back to the States so that she has more room for shopping in Europe, but I’m Emily.

I’m Emily.

I’m Emily and I’m fortunate to have great skin and also have good products to look after it with, I’m fortunate to be living in the middle of the countryside with 4 little chickens that are ugly yet cute who bless me with fresh eggs every morning. I’m fortunate enough to have a monthly subscription with Nomad coffee and drink my yummy yet ugly lattes and more so I’m happy. I’m happier than I’ve ever been, I’m healthier than I’ve ever been and I also feel cuter than ever, but Instagram messes with my brain if I endlessly scroll in there. It’s SO easy to lose focus, to want to give yourself up to live someone else’s life, to drop everything you’re doing because someone you think is cool is doing something else. But a lot of it isn’t real.

Celebrities have always existed, but we’ve gone from seeing these talented and inspiring people on billboards or magazines to seeing them every day in more intimate-human settings every singe day, various times a day through our phones. We’re seeing our best friends having breakfast or leaving the gym and in the next story we’re seeing celebs and we think they’re on the same level. Yesterday I came across a woman’s Insta profile and I saw that she snowboarded and her gear was worth thousands. Literally. Her clothes, helmet, goggles, boots, board and even back-pack were Salomon and Arc’teryx. This is imposible for someone like me. I snowboard every week, which is already such a big privilege to be able to do, but I could never own that type of gear. (We’re talking a weeks worth of different outfits, not even repeating the same wooly hat!!) After a bit more snooping, I came across and old Story in her highlights and of course, they were all PR products, but my brain didn’t think of that when I first saw her photos. I started to want, and want, and desire, and long for things that I can’t own right now.

Today, sat on my terrace in the sun, hearing the birds sing from the surrounding trees and the chickens flapping about below me; I say: fuck it all. I can’t keep up with this constant desire to look like other people, be as good as other people, have what other people have because it’s absolutely unsustainable. It’s crazy and I can’t do it.

I can snowboard in my second hand Nike gear, I can drink coffee from whatever cup, glass or mug is clean and available in the kitchen, I can lay on my bed of white Ikea sheets and still be happy. I can use The Ordinary products and wipe my face with Primark flannels and still be happy. I can’t compete with influencers that receive PR packages every week because brands want them to influence “normal” people like me to spend my hard earned money on their products. I can’t compete with Hailey Bieber’s hair dresser and stylist every day when I wake up and leave the house. I can’t travel all summer in Europe like Emma Chamberlain while earning money passively. I can’t and I don’t particularly want to.

So where’s the catch?

If I know that deep down I’m already doing what I want to be doing, why do I let these images (because that’s all they really are, photos on a social media app) send such strong impulses through my neurons and make my brain explode with the 20 new things I desire every time I look.

I think that I give up now. I give up beating up my body. I give up hating my hair. I give up thinking my teeth aren’t white enough. I give up not having enough books to read next on my bedside table. I give up not having a brand new barista level coffee machine. I simply give up.

I’m Emily. I’m on my own path, I’m working towards my own goals and you know what? I already have enough to deal with as it is. I’m working hard to find balance and harmony inside of my own brain and body. I don’t want to block out and disappear off of social media at this moment, but I do want to give up this idea of wanting to be “Instagramable”.

I give up and it feels empowering to say that I’m finally enough.

WEEKLY RECOMMENDATIONS:

• This Drake song

• This series on Netflix will make you cry like a baby

• This essay written by

  Lee Tilghman
  ❤️‍🩹

• This essay written by

  Naomi Accardi
  🤎