In recent times, I have been wildly defending myself to my family about the amount of time I spend looking at other people's lives on Instagram. I admit it, I love the whole life-perviness of it. How else would I know what everyone else is eating, drinking, crochet-ing, playing with their kids, reading? I'd be totally in the dark, right? I'd never see my darling ex-best-next-door-neighbour Candice's dinners, or what
Mich is eating during her current food safari in LA (and yes, I get so jealous every time I see her latest meal that I have only been able to console myself with the thought that she will need to walk around Centennial Park 100 times to move those deep-fried Oreos! - wish I could still do those laps with you Mich x!).
But I digress. I have been trying to do a little Insta-weaning in the last few days. I have not peeked at it much at all. And I have even stopped doing it at traffic lights. Massive effort.
So, last night, at around 10pm, I was finishing off the captioning for a shoot, when I realised I had made a MAJOR STUFF UP. Yep, I was on deadline, and realised I was one product short. Bugger. And then it came to me...I had Instagrammed a (riveting) pic of my car, stuffed full of products for a shoot, when Candice enquired whether I had planned to feature a certain, fabulous artist. I hadn't, only because I had forgotten to, and I realised that now, with a quick Instagram communication, I could dig myself out of a massive hole. Cool huh? Instagram to the rescue!
Have I justified myself and my time-sucking Instagram addiction yet? Are you addicted?
Just don't get me started on how much I want to be Jools Oliver.
Hx