I love Instagram. I love capturing life and filtering it to be warmer and prettier, editing out the cat's arse or that discarded crisp packet ruining the image. But you can go too far.
Take this pic of me for instance. Ooh looks lovely doesn't it? Get me enjoying a nice glass of wine in a lovely London restaurant (that I can't actually afford to eat or drink in when I'm not doing a review) wearing a smart outfit (from the charity shop). Smoke and mirrors.
I was going to write that I have two daughters but scrub that. I have five children, boys and girls who are bombarded every day by images of "perfection". All I had to contend with growing up was the Bisto mum representing the perfect family and let's face it, she was using instant gravy granules so even I could live up to that.
Now we have an ever moving panorama of beautiful glossy homes, gardens, meals, holidays, people, lifestyles generally which means faced with the reality of a student flat with mould and scratched pans and cheap, mass produced clothes which don't hang right even on slim toned teenaged bodies it's no wonder depression and anxiety is rife among our young people.
Don't start me on the growing practice of photographers offering to edit graduation photos- they'll be airbrushing toddlers in those first preschool pics next.
So although I am guilty of adding to those insta-pretty images online I have been prompted by the wonderful and very real Sally Whittle to share some Insta-fail moments from my camera roll. By the way, you must go and read her post. I laughed so much I snorted tea out of my nose.
Firstly - the holiday cocktail shoot. It all started so well with a beautiful beachside location in Cyprus offering stunning backdrops for my nicely presented drinks.
Obviously I was drinking the drinks. I adore cocktails and since they cost the same as a cup of coffee at this particular bar I was taking full advantage and properly exploring the menu, taking pics as each new cocktail arrived at our table.
Folks - this is what happens when a middle aged woman drinks too many cocktails in the middle of the day.
Note the attractive peek of my white mummy bra. The flaps of under arm fat hanging. The less than perfect complexion and frankly a distinct lack of poise.
My next set embarrasses me slightly. I thought I'd hop on the summer fad of inflatable unicorns in pools beloved by reality TV stars and the like. Admittedly I also thought the kids would love to play on it but a little part of me imagined great traffic with a couple of unicorn related hashtags.
But I am not a slim, young and attractive reality TV star. I am a 48-year old mum of 7 who frankly should know better.
I won't apologise for the bikini. I was in a private villa with no-one but family to see me and I'm proud of the battle scars carrying 7 children has left me with but it's not a pretty sight perched precariously on a large inflatable unicorn!
I wish I had pictures of me trying to mount the thing, and some of me repeatedly falling off it. But all I have are these two.
The first, carefully staged to show the view and not my flabby stomach. I actually did put this on Instagram.
The second when the wind made my unicorn drift leaving the full glory of my middle aged body on view. Oh, and my Crocs on the side of the pool. Yes they are ugly but hey are comfortable and practical too so I own not one but two pairs of them. Like a two tier transporter is the ideal thing for shipping cars, Crocs are perfect for supporting the tired aching feet of a flabby middle aged woman with fibromyalgia and osteoarthritis.
My point? Instagram and the like are all very well but don't forget to keep the real pictures, and sometimes share those too. The next generation will thank you.
Take this pic of me for instance. Ooh looks lovely doesn't it? Get me enjoying a nice glass of wine in a lovely London restaurant (that I can't actually afford to eat or drink in when I'm not doing a review) wearing a smart outfit (from the charity shop). Smoke and mirrors.
I was going to write that I have two daughters but scrub that. I have five children, boys and girls who are bombarded every day by images of "perfection". All I had to contend with growing up was the Bisto mum representing the perfect family and let's face it, she was using instant gravy granules so even I could live up to that.
Now we have an ever moving panorama of beautiful glossy homes, gardens, meals, holidays, people, lifestyles generally which means faced with the reality of a student flat with mould and scratched pans and cheap, mass produced clothes which don't hang right even on slim toned teenaged bodies it's no wonder depression and anxiety is rife among our young people.
Don't start me on the growing practice of photographers offering to edit graduation photos- they'll be airbrushing toddlers in those first preschool pics next.
So although I am guilty of adding to those insta-pretty images online I have been prompted by the wonderful and very real Sally Whittle to share some Insta-fail moments from my camera roll. By the way, you must go and read her post. I laughed so much I snorted tea out of my nose.
Firstly - the holiday cocktail shoot. It all started so well with a beautiful beachside location in Cyprus offering stunning backdrops for my nicely presented drinks.
Obviously I was drinking the drinks. I adore cocktails and since they cost the same as a cup of coffee at this particular bar I was taking full advantage and properly exploring the menu, taking pics as each new cocktail arrived at our table.
Folks - this is what happens when a middle aged woman drinks too many cocktails in the middle of the day.
Note the attractive peek of my white mummy bra. The flaps of under arm fat hanging. The less than perfect complexion and frankly a distinct lack of poise.
My next set embarrasses me slightly. I thought I'd hop on the summer fad of inflatable unicorns in pools beloved by reality TV stars and the like. Admittedly I also thought the kids would love to play on it but a little part of me imagined great traffic with a couple of unicorn related hashtags.
But I am not a slim, young and attractive reality TV star. I am a 48-year old mum of 7 who frankly should know better.
I won't apologise for the bikini. I was in a private villa with no-one but family to see me and I'm proud of the battle scars carrying 7 children has left me with but it's not a pretty sight perched precariously on a large inflatable unicorn!
I wish I had pictures of me trying to mount the thing, and some of me repeatedly falling off it. But all I have are these two.
The first, carefully staged to show the view and not my flabby stomach. I actually did put this on Instagram.
The second when the wind made my unicorn drift leaving the full glory of my middle aged body on view. Oh, and my Crocs on the side of the pool. Yes they are ugly but hey are comfortable and practical too so I own not one but two pairs of them. Like a two tier transporter is the ideal thing for shipping cars, Crocs are perfect for supporting the tired aching feet of a flabby middle aged woman with fibromyalgia and osteoarthritis.
My point? Instagram and the like are all very well but don't forget to keep the real pictures, and sometimes share those too. The next generation will thank you.
The #NotanInstaMum Challenge
I’m tagging some of my blogging friends to take on my #NotanInstaMum challenge and share one of their least Instagrammable photos and the story behind it – are you up for it Swazi and Jenny? The rules are:
- Share a blog post with your most embarrassing photo and the story behind it
- Share it with me in the comments or via Twitter @madmumof7
- I’ll update this post with links to anyone else who wants to take part in the challenge – don’t feel you have to wait to be tagged! If you want to share the posts with your readers, just link to this post