I logged into Instagram and saw a little red tag in the upper righthand corner of my screen letting me know I’d been tagged in a picture. And I panicked. My friends aren’t quite as “into” social media as I am, which means their feeds are like the wild west — no rules. Their pages have no aesthetics. They have no qualms about posting low quality photos. And worst of all…they don’t use Facetune.
I opened the photo, and what I saw horrified me. Not only had my so-called “friend” posted an unedited version of me, looking chubby and shiny — oh, no, it was beyond that. She posted the unedited version of a photo I’d posted to my own Instagram. I felt sick immediately. My palms started sweating and my heart began to race. This type of betrayal shook me to my core. I untagged myself so that shared friends might not find the evidence of my deception and began to text her:
“You are an evil cunt. I can’t believe you’d do this to me.”
Erase. Too aggressive.
“Lol, nice Instagram photo.”
Perhaps not aggressive enough.
“Our friendship? That’s over. It’s canceled.”
I threw my phone across the room, and laid in the middle of my living room floor, distraught. My life was over. All because people were going to see me without Facetune. Then it dawned on me. What the fuck was I doing? This app was ruining me. I’d become so uncomfortable with my real body, that the idea of someone seeing it produced a psychosomatic reaction.
This was nuts. I was done. From that point forward, I was not going to use Facetune any more. Once I lost 20 pounds.
You see, I now believe in loving your body, and refusing to lean on photo-editing apps to alter it, so all that means I have to do is alter my body to look how it looks after I usually edit it. Simple!
I know what you’re thinking. My decision to delete the Facetune from my phone in four to six months is not only brave, but inspiring. It tells the world “you’re perfect just the way you are, as long as the way you are is perfect by society’s standards.” As an influencer to nearly seven hundred girls I knew in college, as well as about 50 guys who secretly want to fuck me, I just think it’s really important to use my voice to let people know that this social media world we’ve created isn’t real. But what will be real is me — raw, unedited, and flawless — in six months and thirty pounds from now.
I’ve seen celebrities — who have teams of people focused full-time on making sure their bodies are flawless by unrealistic standards — adapt this same ideology. They believe that all bodies are beautiful and don’t need photoshop, especially their own, because part of their job requires them to work out three hours a day, and they have professional chefs making sure they only eat healthy foods. Those are the kind of influencers we need, and I want to be a part of it. I want to say “no” the lie that is social media. I want to contribute something that is honest and pure. I just have to make sure my honest, pure body is something that will make other people jealous, instead of what I look like right now, which is a beluga whale.
Look, people, if you’re not a part of the solution, you’re a part of the problem. And what are we telling young girls right now with apps like Facetune? That if you hate a picture, you can just reshape your muffin top, and then share it with the world without feeling self-conscious about it? NOT ON MY WATCH. I’d rather tell girls that my body is natural and real and perfect the way it is — which I will happily do once I lose 20 pounds.
Join me. Stand up for real women everywhere. By becoming a woman who looks photoshopped in real life..
Image via Shutterstock