If you are one of my 200,000 Instagram followers, you may think my life is flawless: I have a glamorous job in downtown Los Angeles, take frequent trips to the beach, and have a gorgeous husband with extremely photogenic calves.
But it’s a lie. I don’t have everything. I merely have like, 90 percent of everything.
I know you’re asking yourself, “But I’ve seen the pictures! You live a life of dazzling leisure punctuated with rewarding charity work. And I’m sure that seven-layer cake last week tasted FANTASTIC.”
But that’s the magic–dare I say the lie–of social media. What you didn’t see was the man behind the curtain. What you didn’t see was the truth. I’m not perfect! I’m just almost perfect. And I’m sure that everyone can relate to that.
For example, I woke up last night and couldn’t go back to sleep for 30 minutes. Was that on Instagram? Nope. Reality like that doesn’t play in the fantasyland that is modern social media. That reality, I’m afraid, is a little too real.
What you’re seeing is an image of a person whose wardrobe is chock full of Alexander McQueen. An image of a person who can get into Bestia on a Friday night. An image of a person who is incredibly blessed to personally know Sky Ferreira. And while that is not all true, it is mostly true. For example, I had to bail Sky Ferriera out of jail once. See, nothing’s perfect!
Remember, I sometimes use filters. I occasionally disagree with my husband. I have one wart. One time I had sex and it wasn’t “mindblowing.”
My husband’s rock-hard calves? Sometimes a little puffy. My glamorous job? Last week we had to postpone four o’clock Wine and Dine Wednesdays. But you wouldn’t know that. In my life, there are no posts about how there are #nohorsdoeuvres. How do I maintain this reasonable façade?
Beneath the fantasy is a real person. So the next time you see my Instagram, and you see me enjoying La Croix Coconut cocktails with a minor celebrity who’s actually a total sweetheart, remember that nobody’s life is perfect. Mine’s just really, really good.