Give Your Instagram A Vacation Too: Why You Don't Need To Post Every Second Of Your Trip Online
Greetings from a grey, cold and rainy New York City. Wish you were here! Not. If there’s one thing more miserable than simply being stuck in your city over the holidays, it’s the extra punch in the stomach you get from looking at everyone’s vacation photos.
These portraits are in the same vein as the horrible, annoying images of your food, except the only audience who can savor your photography skills is yourself.
Thank you for the reminder that we are definitely not in Maui or Aruba or wherever it is you are with your toes in the sand. Hot dogs or legs? I could give zero f*cks whatever those burnt-to-a-crisp pieces of meat are because I actually have real things to contemplate, like the extra work I have to do in order to make up for your absence from the office.
Vacation photos feel especially gratuitous over the holiday season when the focus is on family and being grateful. Instagrammed pictures of palm trees and ski lodges are borderline competitive -- each user trying to one-up the other with even more exotic locations. Meanwhile, for those of us stuck at home, this surge in scenic photography is a constant, painful jab that the only place we can afford to travel to is the corner bodega that doesn’t even sell sunscreen during this time of year.
If I wanted to look at your vacation photos, I’d start following National Geographic, not the amateur abusing stock filters and frames. It doesn’t matter how many photos you post of yourself enjoying the beach and tube tops; I still won’t remember if you went to Puerto Rico or Puerto Vallarta, and I will never actually care which is the correct destination. Oh, you’re a jetsetter? Go f*ck yourself.
What’s cool? Sharing snapshots that are thoughtful, interesting and different to look at. There is nothing enjoyable about coming across a "candid" of you kissing your boyfriend through your ski masks on the chairlift. It just makes me want to take my poles and stab you with them... not to be graphic or anything. That, along with the family portraits in the desert, should be kept for your own personal archives.
I would argue that my blatantly obvious photos of myself looking fly and fierce are more compelling -- at least you’re privy to my positive energy (and not to mention, you get to admire this beautiful mug all day). If you’re going to flood my news channels with shots of you on vacation, at least try to be clever about it -- maybe a cultured snap of the Big Buddha in Hong Kong or the sprawling landscapes of Marrakech.
I hate being the one to break this to the hundreds of privileged Millennials whose grandparents live in Florida, but posting a photo of you dressed like a mini-Miley in Miami on New Year's Eve does not count as a novel, special or particularly fascinating Instagram. There. Glad we got this settled. Now, excuse me while I go take a mirror selfie in the dressing room...
Would you appreciate perusing through snapshots of me in winter boots, walking to work in frigid temperatures and fighting an influx of tourists on the sidewalk? (You might, actually; I’m wildly entertaining and cute in my snow bunny suit, if I do say so myself.) But, if I do the courtesy of not sharing those moments with you, do you think you could spare me the lame pictures of you holding Panda bears? I already have Google images for that, thanks.
And, a quick shout-out to the girls in bikinis who were running outside in bitter December temperatures all in preparation for this big moment on Facebook: here. Here is your recognition for your killer body -- all nine words of it. Go put that in your hamburger and not eat it.
To be honest, unless you were 30 pounds heavier over last year’s holiday vacation, you really don’t need to post your middle-of-the-winter six-pack achievement. For one thing, the jealous girls in your sorority are already making sure it’s the only thing being talked about in conjunction with bulimia, and for another, nobody else cares. That being said, if you’re hunking out down south in Miami, please feel free to send me pictures of your biceps.
What’s even worse than having to browse hundreds of postcard pictures? Having to hear every staggering detail from each returning friend over the course of the entire month of January. “I really want you to tell me about your vacation!” said no one, ever.
Do us a favor: Stay on the island you came from and don’t post photos for help. Unless, of course, you’re planning on taking us next time.
Photos courtesy: RKOI
