My biggest pet peeve is people who request to follow me on Instagram and then never post their own pictures or don’t accept me as a friend in return.
I put my pictures out there for the world to see. The tiny fraction that is my life is displayed at instagram.com/mama2princesses. There I have posted roughly 300 pictures for my 112 followers and I follow about 155 people myself.
I don’t follow you to see my numbers go up or for you to comment on my pictures. I do it because I want to see inside your life as well. Are your traveling? Did your kid just celebrate a birthday? Were you able to see something this weekend that just blew your mind?
Show me your pictures and I’ll show you mine.
Give me your excuses and I’ll give you my responses:
- I don’t have anything to photograph — Really? Nothing? One of my Instagram pictures is me rolling my arch on a small toy ball because my plantar faciatiis was acting up. How boring/lame/uninteresting as that? But it got me in touch with @archmobility, which makes inserts and give pointers on how to help with the pain. I’ll take it.
- I don’t take selfies or like the way I look in pictures — There are millions of website on how to flatter yourself in pictures. Not to mention, one of my pictures was myself during the Susan G. Komen 3 Day Walk. After 60 miles. And no shower. There is really no worse picture in the world.
- No one wants to see my stuff — Yes we do! I try to post stuff I’m working on or doing, and you’d be surprised by the feedback I get. Even if it’s just an encouraging word. I mean, we’re all in this together, let’s show it.
- My life is full of messy houses, dirty kids and Pinterest fails — That’s the beauty of Instagram. It’s a single shot, a small sqaure frame of your life. Here is an example:
See it? I’m wearing two different shoes. And not even the same color. And I didn’t notice until AFTER I dropped my kids off at school and I was on my way in to work. Yet I posted it, because it is/was my life. It was 102 weeks ago, which means I was mostly just back to work after 12 weeks of maternity leave. I was sleep deprived, pumping/nursing around the clock, tackling huge projects at work and somehow on the way out the door to work….this happened.
And I posted it. Loud and proud, you guys, loud and proud.
Because almost two years later, I can look back at it and remember how tired I was. It wasn’t just “man I should have gotten more sleep last night.” It was “Holy smokes! I am so tired that I didn’t realize I was wearing two different colored shoes that are clearly two different styles and now I’m going to be late for work because I need to go change them.”
Lots of people commented and sent me messages of support for an exhausted working mama of three girls.
That’s what these sharing sites are all about: Community.
If you want to be a part of my community, jump right in. If you want to be my stalker, well, no thanks.