Social Media Haterade

I have been sipping the haterade for over a year now.

Fruit Punch is my favorite.

Once a self-proclaimed social media addict, I am now the opposition.


Instagram was my drug of choice. I reveled in likes and comments on revealing “fitness” photos in my Lululemon attire. My self-worth was based entirely on physical attributes, and my ego soon grew as big as my glutes.

Why? Insecurity, low self-esteem from poorly chosen relationships and a family that would never approve of me. I sought approval outside of myself.

Now, this is not the case for most egotistical Instagram faces- but it is blatantly obvious for some.

I could smell the bull excrement when I scrolled through my feed (before I completely lost it and deleted all social apps).

Young girls selling themselves for discount codes on “fit tea” that was more likely to put you in the hospital for dehydration due to intense diarrhea than it was to help you lose fat.

Couples taking kissing photos and posting at any opportune moment, not because of they were in love, but to make themselves and hopefully everyone on Instagram believe their relationship was as rock solid as the pictures depicted.

Idiotic single males depicting their normal life as “lavish,” with staged photos depicting said male casually opening the door to his rented luxury automobile, followed by a selfie with paid models on a yacht that belonged to a bro’s father.

The “independent woman” hashtagger, whom made a point to post about making money without a man, when in reality it was probably 3 different men that were paying for utilities or gave the current work placement.

The people whom actually have money are not posting pictures of it. They don’t care if other people think they are rich- because they know they are.

The people whom are actually fit in real-life are rarely in need of perfect lighting, semi-professional photo shop skills, and daily selfies. They don’t need to prove they have a nice body- they know it. They own a mirror.

Insecurity runs rampant on this site, and it has also bred a new form of online counter-culture. This online culture is one of acceptance for one’s flaws, but this has turned into people admitting or conjuring very personal facts online for the masses. They turn their flaws into attention.

Flaws like poor mental health- everyone has depression and anxiety suddenly. Everyone is on medication and is, “so thankful for having the strength to seek help.”

Some people have these conditions, others don’t. It is easy to see which ones are looking for attention- they probably have wrote about it, and have accompanied it with an unsmiling selfie.

Flaws like, “I have cellulite, I’m normal too” or, “I have rolls when I sit down, and I stage my photos for Instagram by sucking in. We are all human beings after all!”

How is it possible to ruin a movement of togetherness by singularity?

Instagram addicts find a way!

How is it that fit people can be overweight now? This is a thing.

I don’t recall ever calling a fat person fit, but the Instagram community decided overnight that if you include fit in your username, congrats! You are rightfully so.

I say this now, and know it would ruffle feathers. Instagram is about community- and fit comes in all shapes in sizes. However…

It doesn’t. It doesn’t work like that. There are measures of body fat for a reason- too much body fat and you’re not healthy and therefore not fit.

You don’t become a PhD because you went to science camp in summer ’07, and just because you go to the gym 2x a week doesn’t mean you are fit.

If you are indeed overweight and in shape(aka. most hockey players) then you are “in shape”. You are not a poster child for fitness.

“But fitness is about overall health, not just looks!”

There’s an argument that is a complete waste of time, and is the top retort to my previous statement. If fitness is about overall health, then that high body fat percentage is still at bat, ready to swing.

(Sigh), I digress.

I’ve finally realized how stupid social media makes people- because I was once clenched in the grasps of it. I can only sit back and watch the madness continue.

Correction, I would- but I have been Instagram-free for a couple months now.

I highly recommend you “find the strength to seek social media help” after a cup of your diarrhea tea, and don’t forget to post a quick selfie explaining your departure.