It’s Valentine’s Day, and after a shoddily-cooked meal of crap steak and burnt kale, I’m disappearing off into the bedroom. (Ooher.) Thankfully, not for anything scandalous; simply to take a photo of my red roses – bought for me by my boyfriend, who must have decided I’m not that bad of a girlfriend after all – because my bedroom has pale walls and good lighting, and Instagram must know about them. #luckygirl. #boydidgood.

As I finished the very long and arduous process of editing my rose photo so it was WORTHY of appearing on my Insta feed, I realised how utterly false the image I portray on social media is. The things this photo isn’t showing? The fact I’m wearing a huge jumper and a (slightly ratty) pair of knickers, with my hair in a bun, standing amidst a floordrobe of dirty laundry and holding a rose against my (light blue, pre-editing) bedroom wall, whilst my boyfriend shouts out the car chase updates of Police Interceptors from the living room. Not so glam, right?

So, in the interest of BEING HONEST, I thought I’d pick out some of my last few social media images and tell you why I’m a BIG FAT LIAR. Because – confession time – I’m a catfish of life: I pretend my days are way more exciting than they actually are. Here’s the proof…


Firstly: look how snazzy these leggings are. (I look like I’ve dipped my legs into a melted gobstobber, and it makes me happy.) Moving on; on my top half, I’m still wearing my pyjamas, and whilst I had intentions of going to gym? I never went, and ate Kettle Chips on the sofa whilst watching Friends instead, relishing in the fact these leggings have an elasticated waistband so I could finish the tub of sour cream dip as well. Because what’s a chip without a dip, amiriteeeee?


Want to know what’s on my bedside table right now? A pair of gloves. A pile of hair extensions (creepy). A random selection of earrings, with and without partners and butterflies. My gas bill (concerning). Three glasses, half full of juice (half full because I’m a POSITIVE PERSON). And an empty bottle of body lotion, upside down to try and get the dregs out. Basically? My bedside table never ever ever looks this tidy, and to take this picture I shoved everything off onto the floor. And then left it there. For days.


I’m standing in the car-park of my apartment building here, and it took several goes to get this photo quite right: my neighbours are beginning to get suspicious because I haven’t moved for a while. These boots are too big so I nearly walk out of them, and these jeans have setting powder all over them because I’m apparently incapable of using a stippling brush. People are starting to think there’s something wrong with me, because, to get my Chanel bag in the shot (obvs), I’m having to hold my phone above my head like a loser. Someone honks at me because I’m in front of their car and they need to go to work. I’m then late, and the photo doesn’t even get that many likes. Bummer.


Ooh, look how chilled I am! In actual fact, I took this photo on a Wednesday and I’ve been awake since 7am because the bin-men keep yelling at each other like feral cats downstairs. I’m anything but relaxed. Oh, and I took seven different angles of this image and will parcel them out gradually over the next few weeks. Shh, don’t tell anyone…


hate taking outfit pictures, because I do them by myself and BY GOD it’s embarrassing when people see. I’m actually stood on a busy road, surrounded by cars and people, dithering in front of a garage door. Not my garage door, either, so I’ll probably get done for trespassing soon. And my oh-so-casual pose took about 34 attempts, and I almost deleted it because of those STUPID SUN SPOTS, but then the people that live in the house came back and thought I wanted to rob their house or was a door-to-door streetwalker, because who wears a going-out dress at 11am on a Saturday?

So, I’m sorry, guys: I’m a big ol’ catfish. But making my life seem a little more glam on social media makes me feel kind of warm and fuzzy inside, and as if I’ve sort of got my life together a bit more than in reality. I think I’ll stay being a catfish for the time being – and maybe I’ll get to meet Max and Nev one day. A girl can dream…



7 thoughts on “CONFESSION: I’M A CATFISH

  1. Oh my goddd I’ve never laughed out loud so many times from reading a blog post! The hair extensions bit killed me. Props to you for making fun of the instagram lies we all portray! hahaha. Have a great day, xo J.

    Liked by 1 person

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