I am sure most of you have heard the phrase “Instagram vs Reality” more times than you can count. It has become one of those internet sayings that almost loses meaning through overuse. For the longest time, I never really applied it to myself. I assumed I was simply sharing my life in a polished way, not necessarily creating something false.
But then my husband, in the incredibly grounding way only he can manage, pointed something out to me that genuinely made me stop and think. He highlighted just how much effort I was putting into presenting a more aesthetic version of my life. And honestly, my first instinct was to disagree with him entirely.
The Realisation I Didn’t Want to Have
At first, I argued back. I insisted that I was not trying to portray a more glamorous or curated life than the one I actually lived. But almost immediately, examples started flashing through my mind faster than I could defend myself.
There were moments where I had adjusted things purely for a photograph. Times where I staged scenarios, carefully selected only the best angles, or deliberately hid the messier reality sitting just outside the frame. And if I am being really honest, there were even moments where I bought things partially because I liked the image they projected online. Suddenly, it became difficult to deny that somewhere along the way, I had become caught up in trying to maintain an aesthetic.
When My Husband Called Me Out
Then came the comment that really landed.
My husband said he fully supported me spending money on the things I genuinely love. Whether that be nice cars, designer bags, or anything else that brings me happiness. But if I was buying those things purely for recognition, validation, or online clout, then I was contributing to the exact problem I often complained about online.
And annoyingly, he was right.
The Car That Became Content
A perfect example of this was my car. I have always loved cars. Growing up, I spent countless hours watching Top Gear with my dad, and from a young age, I knew owning a beautiful car was something I aspired to.
When I was 24, I was finally able to buy my dream Jaguar F-Pace. It genuinely felt like an incredible achievement. But somewhere between purchasing it and posting about it online, something shifted. It was no longer enough for me to simply enjoy owning it privately. I wanted people to see it too. I remember doing a full photoshoot of the interior and carefully selecting the sleekest, most polished images to share online.
At the time, I convinced myself I was simply proud of what I had achieved. And part of me truly was. But looking back now, I can also recognise that there was another layer to it. I wanted people to perceive me a certain way. Successful. Stylish. Aspirational.
Only Sharing the Beautiful Parts
The truth is, social media rarely reflects the full reality of anybody’s life, and mine certainly does not.
What people often see online are the carefully selected moments. The polished photographs, the beautiful interiors, the nice meals, the aesthetic corners of life. What they do not see are the evenings where I come home mentally exhausted, emotionally drained, and spend hours curled up on the sofa with my dog trying to decompress from the day.
They do not see the anxiety, the burnout, the messy moments, or the days where everything feels far less glamorous than the internet would suggest. Instead, they see content I photographed weeks ago, slowly posted over time in a way that creates the illusion of a perfectly curated life. And honestly, I no longer think that feels entirely healthy for me.
Wanting to Be More Real
I think we are all guilty of trying to make our lives look slightly prettier online than they are in reality. That desire for approval, validation, or simply wanting to present your best self feels deeply ingrained in internet culture at this point.
But lately, I have found myself craving something more honest. I want to share the less polished parts too. The messy car interiors, the dog-hair-covered clothes after cuddling my Golden Retriever, the slightly grim local pubs on nights out with friends. The moments that actually make up real life.
Final Thoughts
I do not think there is anything inherently wrong with enjoying beautiful things or wanting to create aesthetically pleasing content. I still love fashion, interiors, luxury details, and photography. That part of me has not disappeared.
But I no longer want to feel like I am constantly performing a version of my life that only shows the highlights. Real life is imperfect, messy, emotional, and sometimes deeply ordinary. And honestly, I think there is something far more comforting and relatable about that than another perfectly curated square on Instagram ever could be.
